


The Price of Brotherhood

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: BoS, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Brotherhood of Steel Romance, Fallout 4 Brotherhood of Steel, Fallout 4 M/M, Fallout 4 Slash, Fallout Brotherhood of Steel, M/M, Paladin Danse - Freeform, Paladin Danse Slash, Sole Survivor, Soul Survivor Slash, Video Game Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sole Survivor is given the one order he can't follow. </p><p>I know some of you don't like to read stories written in first-person. It's only the first chapter, the rest is third-person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not At Any Price

* * *

"A dream you once were,

A dream of all my realities,

A dream I can no long strive for

In the wake of my manly betrayals."

― C. Elizabeth, _Absolute Obsession_

* * *

Maxson ordered me to kill him.

Blind fury emptied mind of all thought. Murder the man who taught me how to survive in this wasteland where a random moment of inattention could get you killed? The wise man who befriended a lost and grieving man. Saw something in me that led him to believe I possessed the strength and courage to join the Brotherhood of Steel. He made me a Knight with his own hands. The pride on his face when he presented me with my BOS power armor and Teagan let it slip that Danse painted the rank on himself. He was there, at my side, when Elder Maxson promoted me to Paladin. After the ceremony, we wandered away from the party to the flight deck.

I won't forget that night. If I die an old man or killed by a Raider, my last thoughts will be of the evening I spent with Paladin Danse. We had walked this deck many times, but tonight was different. Special? Magical? The stars reflecting off the water surrounded us in a blanket of light. We shared a bottle of wine and chatted about the BOS, the beauty of the night sky and the possibility of a mission to Far Harbor. When the temperature began to fall, and snow flurries skittered across the deck, we decided to head inside. Was this night was any different than the hundreds of nights we spent patrolling the Commonwealth together? Long winter nights where we often slept side by side under the stars or curled together for warmth inside a burned out building. Was it the stars? The moon? The season? I don't know. The things we considered romantic in my time are two hundred years out of date here.

Reluctant to leave the peaceful world we created, I hesitated. When Danse turned to go, he paused and turned back. Silhouetted by the night sky I watched him. Although he seemed thoughtful I could never be sure. He could be thinking about the next mission. With his eyes on his hands, as if he wasn't sure what they were doing he silently zipped my coat closed. The moment lasted for eternity. Neither one of us took a breath. Without looking at me, he allowed one finger to touch my cheek. The callused tip of his trigger finger brushed across the beard stubble on my cheek. Had I seen this coming? Maybe. Did I want it? Yes. That evening and moment of understanding turned into a beginning.

Tonight Maxson watched me with his hawk eyes and waited for my answer. They expected me to acknowledge the order with obedience, I know. Are they kidding? It's only armor that keeps me on my feet. Elder Maxson peered into my visor. Thank God he cannot see my face. Muted by shock, I managed an affirmative response and headed to the flight deck. Cambridge Police Station offered no respite. Just like always, Rhys sneered at me and Scribe Haylen waited expectantly for me to hand over the tech. My armor clanked against the wall as I stumbled down the stairs. I had to get out of here. Out of Cambridge Station and away from the words _, he's a Synth, I order you to kill him._

I made it to a side street and vomited. They say he's a synth. One of the things I learned to hate. It was Danse who taught me to hate them. How many have I killed? Hundreds. And now, there's just one more. A sound tore from my throat. A sob or groan? I don't know. I know my heart is breaking and if that's a cliche, then so be it. But I can't describe this pain as anything else. The expanding agony spread through my chest weakened my knees and twisted my stomach.

For once College Square is quiet. I need to sit down, but I'm sure they're watching me. I pushed myself away from the wall and kept moving. I wondered, is this a test? Have they sensed some weakness in my faith? The armor choked me. I tugged at the collar and imagined destroying it piece by piece. This armor, a symbol of what brought us together and for many months kept us apart. It's easy to keep your desire hidden inside the shell of power armor. Locked inside, safe from Raiders, animals and each other. We marched across the Commonwealth together shoulder to shoulder. We righted wrongs, saved children, built settlements and watched crops climb to the sun. He helped me find my son.

Dry heaves bent me over. I must move. They can't see me like this. There's a cathedral just two blocks away. I aimed myself in the general direction. After a short walk staggered through the front door of the dark church. My power armor opened. I stumbled from the cage and landed on one of the splintered pews.

In another world, when I had a wife who loved me, and a baby son, the church held something for me. We dutifully attended services every Sunday. We waved to our neighbors and made plans for afternoon get-togethers. I prayed with the congregation, but no one knew the content of my prayers. They could never know that I prayed for guidance, for release from this sinful desire. I prayed to love my wife as she loved me, to find solace in the yielding softness of her arms.

God? How can I kill the answer to my prayers?

The strength of his muscular arms and trusting brown eyes. How can I obliterate the nights of passion we shared? The day we found the Institute and the old man…all that was left of my son. I'd run away that day, too. Ran until sobbing took the place of breathing. I ran until the fusion core in my armor died. When I stopped, Danse was right behind me. I hadn't realized he followed me. I watched him step out of his armor. When my armor opened, and he caught me before I fell to the ground.

I'd teased him once about having a hug for me. He replied something about when that moment comes. I guess that was the time because he wrapped his long arms around me and I cried out the grief into his chest. Grateful for his understanding that searching for my son was the only thing that kept me going in this crazy world I held on to that rock-solid friendship. When I could breathe again, he led me to a nearby sleeping bag and pulled me down. He tucked me against his broad, sturdy body and I slept. When I awoke, I watched him cooking over a small fire. We ate breakfast, washed up, climbed back into our armor and kept moving. We never spoke of that night again.

The answers to my prayers and the selfless love we discovered gave me renewed purpose. I loved Paladin Danse, and I'd found a home with the Brotherhood of Steel. I raised my hands and examined them in the dim light. They're covered in blood, the innocent blood of the hundreds of people I'd killed in the name of the Brotherhood. Now I must wash them in his blood. Only he doesn't have blood, does he? Once, they called me the Lone Survivor, today I am Paladin Arsen of the Brotherhood of Steel, and I've fallen in love with a synth. Learned to fly in the arms of a synth. By the time the sun comes up one or both of us will be dead.

The filthy splintered pew caught me as I fell back. As I laid there in the quiet church I thought back to that glittering night on the Prydwen...


	2. At What Price?

For a solemn and dedicated warship, _The Prydwen_ was uncharacteristically festive tonight. Normally subdued the interior lights blazed over the crowd of BOS brothers and sisters. Work tables covered with food and alcohol jockeyed for position with tools, grease rags, and open cans of paint. One or two daring couples swayed to the music. And clinging to the rigging, the young Squires watched the adults and wished they were old enough to join the party. The whispered among themselves, bragging about their first weapon and first kill. They bet on which one of them was good enough to mentor with Paladin Danse or Paladin Arsen. Earlier Elder Arthur Maxson presided over a ceremony to promote several of his soldiers. Among those honored was a man named Arsen.

Late into the evening, the new Paladin is surrounded by well-wishers and effectively cut off from escape. He nodded politely, tried to keep his eyes off the exit and waited for the right moment make his apologies. After shaking his hand and wishing him good luck the Elder departed. That was an hour ago. Once Maxson left, instead of breaking up, the party seem to hit its stride. The lights are brighter, and the several radios blast cacophony of everything from Classical to Diamond City Radio and Crawl Out Through the Fallout played against the background of Dusty Dude's bluesy guitar.

The murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses rattled his nerves. Always had. Weapons fire or a silent night alone in the wasteland never bothered him. Parties? He hated parties. His wife—his dead wife—Nora loved to entertain. To keep her happy he played the dutiful husband and host to her wide circle of friends. It was always a fundraiser of some kind. So many, in fact, he lost count. And all that, he reminded himself by taking a deep sip of Scotch, happened two hundred, twelve years, five months and three days ago. How many years must pass before he stopped thinking of her in the present tense?

"Paladin Arsen, a word?"

A familiar voice cut through the party chatter. The smoky tones of a warm breath floated across his cheek. The new Paladin didn't have to turn around to know who asked the question. And damn, he's happy to hear it. Arsen glanced up at his friend and mentor, Paladin Danse. When Danse inclined his head toward the exit, Arsen responded with a smile of gratitude and a return nod. _Thank God, rescue has arrived._ After an hour of fielding questions and pleas for stories about what it was really like in the Commons, he was ready for a break from these wide-eyed recruits.

All eyes were on the newly minted Paladin and senior Paladin tonight, especially regarding Arsen's promotion. Some felt Arsen hadn't deserved it because he was just a vault dweller and not really one of them. Since the beginning, Arsen decided to let his actions speak for him. They might gossip, but no one could say he hadn't earned the promotion. The majority of the Brotherhood of Steel never experienced genuine military training. And not one of them possessed military training to match his. Before an injury forced him out of active service, Arsen spent almost a decade in the Navy before marrying and settling down. The Naval Academy, officer training school and missions into hostile territory as a team leader, prepared him for this world in a way that none of them could imagine. After almost three years in the wasteland, he knew the Commons as well as any soldier or Minuteman. Better than most. In the early days, Danse took Arsen under his wing and challenged him to learn, not just survive, but how to live in the Commons wasteland. Arsen thrived on that challenge. The men formed a solid friendship. As Arsen watched Paladin Danse exit the bay he thought about their friendship and although he couldn't place the moment, something had changed.

A year ago gossip surfaced about the two of them. Arsen stopped the idle chatter. He doubted the Scribe who repeated it would ever willingly speak again. At least not without asking for permission. Luckily, Arsen felt confident no one would dare repeat it to Danse. Arsen forced himself to wait by counting to one hundred before following Danse outside. Although still friends, tension mounted between the two of them and it wouldn't do to draw attention to themselves. Not tonight. Arsen took a deep breath, made a polite excuse and headed toward the flight deck. He didn't fully understand the source of whatever had come between them. Lately, Danse behaved as if he were angry. If the gossip had finally made it to his ears, he had a right to his anger. What to do about it, he had no idea.

Paladin Arsen stepped through the hatchway to the flight deck. Sharp eyes searched for the silhouette of Paladin Danse. He wasn't that difficult to locate. Tonight might be the perfect time to get things out in the open. The truth was he missed Danse at his side. They made a good team. He missed sharing meals and late night talks in the circle of light cast by their small campfire and his snoring presence during the long dark nights out in the field.

The Paladin stood at his natural position of attention on the edge of a vertibird pad. Arsen breathed in a lung full of night air and out of habit scanned his surroundings before walking away from the hatch. The usual wind was absent tonight. Far below the Prydwen's berth, the calm sea reflected the stars back from the night sky creating a blanket of lights surrounding the ship.

Arsen headed toward Paladin Danse and his footfalls the only sound. Danse stood out as a dark shape among the lights. Once, Arsen interpreted that posture as loneliness or self-imposed isolation that he didn't understand and reasons he couldn't imagine. The Paladin was respected and revered among the Brotherhood rank and file. Time in the man's company proved his assumption incorrect. Danse grew up alone learning to survive by scavenging the wasteland. They came to know each other over campfires, danger and rare moments of quiet while he watched Danse, and Danse watched the stars.

"One of these days, you'll tell me what you're looking for up there." Arsen moved closer hoping for an answer. Minutes went by before the senior Paladin answered and the response only added to the man's intrigue. The Paladin was a mystery packaged in armor and tonight dressed in the close-fitting uniform. Tall and imposing in everything he wore, the Brotherhood of Steel dress uniform set off the broad shoulders rising from the narrow waist and enhanced his virile good looks.

Had he ever seen Danse out of his armor before tonight? When you added mysterious, fearless and smart, it added up to an attractive picture. But, now that he thought about it, he'd never seen a woman approach him. Ever.

"Thank you for joining me, Paladin Arsen." Danse ignored the question. That didn't stop Arsen from moving closer.

_I miss you, Danse._

"Have you ever wondered about the definition of happiness?"

"Sure." A frown creased Arsen's brow. He took a swig of wine and passed the bottle to Danse. At least he's speaking to me.

The man's profile revealed nothing of his thoughts. The question and answer hung in the air between them.

"Tell me."

Arsen shrugged, wondering where this was going. "I guess, uh, I was a happily married man. Holding my son and watching him change day by day brought me happiness. The Navy and later my job…"

"...Those are external stimuli."

"Danse, I didn't grow up in this world. I grew up in a world where choices were made for you, often before we were born. I got good grades, attended the Naval Academy and found an appropriately successful job. All of that made my parents happy. Then I got married to a beautiful, well-educated girl, got a mortgage and got pregnant. I tried to make her happy. Those are the things I was taught would make me happy. Those are the myths my generation were raised on."

"Myths?"

Arsen turned his body toward Danse, searching his face for the reasons for these questions. He's different tonight, almost vulnerable and that's a side of himself Danse didn't show to anyone. What is it, my friend? Danse started when Arsen placed a hand on his forearm and thought about how to answer.

"We got married because it was expected. Sadly, as most couples discover, those intense feelings of love don't last very long. She wouldn't let me touch her during the pregnancy. Once Shaun was born, we discovered we barely knew each other. By then, I no longer desired her. I never knew her favorite color or remembered her birthday or the date we got married. I was a selfish bastard, and I hurt her."

"Why did you leave the Navy?"

So it was a night of revelations. Okay. Arsen sucked in a lungful of the evening air. "I got hurt, and they medically discharged me." That should be enough of an answer to satisfy anyone.

"I've seen you endure plasma burns and bullet wounds. I find it difficult to believe it was a simple injury. What happened?"

"If you must know my nosey friend. One of the guys in my squad accused of being a homosexual. No one seemed to care. I think they told him to mind his own business and get back to work. Later, several of them caught me in the parking lot and beat me up pretty badly. Bad enough, that my injuries were deemed too severe to remain on active duty."

"You were wronged. Why did no one stand up for you?"

He let the question drift between them. Might as well just say it. Instead, Arsen turned away.

"Because. Because it was true."

"If you could do it over again?"

Arsen laughed a lonely hollow sound, whirled and gripped the Paladin's upper arms. "I am doing it over again, with you."

A tremor began from the spot under Arsen's hand and rippled over the Paladin's frame. Hands still on his upper arms, Arsen gave him a gentle shake.

"You're different tonight? If something's troubling you?" Arsen let the question fade away. Danse could make whatever he wanted of it.

"I am proud of you and your accomplishments. You have thrived here."

"If I hadn't answered that emergency radio transmission, I'd have died a long time ago. Damn near killed on the way to the Station. Ghouls everywhere. None of this would have been possible without you."

Danse returned his attention to the stars, and the silence lingered like a thick fog. When Danse didn't respond, "The temperature is dropping. We should go back inside."

"Wait."

Danse responded by grasping the lapels of Arsen's jacket. Time stopped when Danse turned his dark eyes on Arsen's face. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Arsen saw something flicker to life. One calloused finger stroked across his cheek. The touch sparked something raw and needy inside Arsen. His mouth softened, knees weakened and his body arched toward Danse.

The Paladin's next words replaced those odd feelings with anger and disappointment.

"They assigned you to the Philadelphia area."

"That explains a few things." Arsen shrugged himself away from Danse, while anger flared. The spot on his cheek still hot from his touch. "The silent treatment. My promotion. Do you think I don't know how they feel about me? Send him away, right? He'll never survive. Problem solved."

"That isn't the reason," Danse replied and his gaze returned at the stars.

Shit. "You heard the rumors?

The big man moved so quickly Arsen didn't have time to defend himself. Lifted by his arms, he found himself pinned against the side of a vertibird and held off the ground by the weight of the Paladin's strength and size. A gasp of surprise, then Arsen's body began to answer for him when his heart beat a tattoo against his ribs that left him little strength for breath.

Danse divided Aren's legs with a muscular thigh and set him astride Danse's leg. Danse's sharp breath beat against his face. Arsen opened his mouth to take in the scent of the man and swallow Danse's panting breath. The stars flickered in his eyes, and Arsen saw no hesitation. With his hand around Danse's neck, Arsen pulled him down so he could get the taste him into his mouth.

Their foreheads bumped, both men breathing hard.

"Paladin Arsen."

"Don't talk." Arsen lifted his mouth to touch the other man's cheek. The stubble, the strong jaw working against the emotion pulled a moan from Arsen. "If this is what you want from me, then take it. Just don't stop." To emphasize his point, Arsen grazed his lips along the firm line of Danse's jaw until he could no longer hold back and bit down.

Danse jerked back in surprise only to find his mouth aligned with Arsen's. With his fingers scraping through Danse's hair, Arsen forced their mouths together.

"I cannot allow…"

Then, let me down. Allow me to walk away."

"No."

He managed to catch a breath before Danse crushed him against the vertibird grinding hips against Arsen's arousal.

With tenderness he would deny, Danse pressed his mouth against Arsen's. The kiss became a conversation of intimacy, expressing the promise of what could be with lips and tongues. Arsen released himself into the possessive strength of Danse's embrace.

Against his neck, Danse ground out words. "We cannot get caught. Stop."

"Can you just stop? Now? Fly us somewhere. Fucking anywhere."

The door to the vertibird slid open, and the men fell together onto the hard deck plating. Dragging himself away, Danse threw himself into the pilot's chair and launched them into the night. Gripped with white-knuckle intensity, the stick became a symbol of his battle for self-control. He learned the price of losing control long ago when he was just a boy. He will fly until he stabilized his body by controlling the urges. He will achieve control again. It is a simple matter of the mind forcing the body to obey. He's done it before in the face of grief and fear, and he will do it again.

But he's never felt this desire to connect, or the undeniable need to experience skin against skin. To dominate and be dominated by the weight and strength of another. His body bowed itself over the controls in a perfect arch of concentration. Inside, he's out of control, and it scared him. His hand reached to ease the pulsing ache of the one thing he scarcely allowed himself to touch. Then a voice beside him spoke.

"Land this thing, now."

Danse followed Arsen's orders. The vertibird landed with a thump on a sandy beach and skidded to a stop.

Paladin Danse trembled with a need so primal he's afraid to move. If he moved, it would take over, and that can't happen. Until the man next to him unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and a warm hand soothed his clenched throat. Lips touched his cheek and left behind a shaky breath that matched his labored breathing.

"It'll be alright. I promise."


	3. No Price Too High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times coming up. Nordhagen Beach is about to be scandalized. The family? I guess they headed into Boston for some chowder.

 

* * *

 "The sound of your footsteps

Telling me that you're near

Your soft gentle motion, baby

Brings out the need in me that no one can hear, except

~o~

In my midnight confessions

When I tell all the world that I love you

In my midnight confessions

When I say all the things that I want to

I love you."

* * *

" _Cameras_." The warning ground from Danse's throat like the sound of breaking glass cutting into his hands. Arsen blinked, dragged in a breath and glanced up at the accusing red light. How could he have forgotten? Danse was right, of course. Arsen left a trail of heat behind when he removed his hands from the man's face and neck. The loss of contact startled them both and they looked up at the same time.

"I'm sorry. I…" Shaky legs allowed him to climb slowly to his feet. How long he could remain upright, he couldn't say. Something profound and strange had broken free from deep inside hidden under layers of should and cannot. Where he hid the fears and the unanswered prayers, this thing bloomed hot and undeniable. Terrified, Paladin Arsen yanked himself to attention and stumbled from the aircraft. Over his shoulder, he forced out the only words he could think of, "I'll begin recon, Paladin. Radio active."

The wet sand sucked at his feet while the world around him fragmented. Arsen fought the agony of walking away from Danse. As if the more distance he place between him and the senior paladin the more parts of himself fell away. A few yards from the vertibird, Arsen dropped into a rusted patio chair. His head fell back and turned his gaze toward the distant Prydwen. Earlier, floating above the city on her flight deck the star-filled night created an otherworldly stage for them to act out long-repressed emotions. He's been to this island many times. In the daytime, it's a beautiful spot. Tonight it's a the place of nightmares.

On the ground clouds scudded across the sky and the smell of rain hung in the air. Death and decay picked up by the wind swirled in the wind floated Out on the ocean a storm boiled with lightning and the distant sound of thunder. North wind whipped the sea and sent sand swirling into the humid air. Thankfully, the beach is empty. Arsen rose from the chair and dragged an arm across this eyes.

Twenty yards away stood a small structure. With his weapon ready, he forced his trembling body into action. The shack seemed to appear and disappeared in the meager light and unstable weather. Staggering through the sticky wet sand he tried to put some distance between him and Danse.

Arsen stumbled through the opening and slammed the door closed. Another step caught his foot on something heavy and landed on an ancient mattress with a groan. He could make this go away. It would take only a moment. Hands clenched into fists, nails gouging calloused palms. Danse wouldn't have to know. Just do it and go back to the vertibird. Forget everything that happened in the last hour and pretend like it never happened.

Arsen rolled onto his side, unclenched his hands and tried to calm down. Only a moment. Then he could go back to the lonely nights where he convinced himself he didn't require the touch of another human, kind words or comfort after almost dying, again. Days and nights when he dressed his own wounds and endured the darkness with only his pain for company. And more often than not, his throat was burning for water and empty stomach tied in knots.

When the pain became too severe, and he's driven to touch himself. To open his clothes and release the burning desire, he often thought of his wife. Nora was a lady and would never touch him that way. Never take him with the strength he craved but could not name. Tonight, instead of allowing himself the relief of his hand, Arsen pounded his fist into the thin mattress. Outside the storm announced its presence with a crack of lightning. Thunder followed with the scent of ozone sizzling in the air. The heavens opened, drenching the beach where demons rose howling their ridicule.

Memories lashed across his flesh, laying open old wounds. Four years of trying to fit in, four years of grieving. Burned into his brain is the memory of his wife shot to death just a few feet away and helpless to save her or his son. Once, he had a comfortable home and an affectionate wife, standing in the community and a child. The newest Paladin of the Commonwealth BOS curled himself into a fetal position and tried to understand how tonight he's lying on a filthy mattress in a run down shack and trying to remember who he is.

Inside the vertibird, a nearby lightning strike illuminated the cockpit. Danse looked down at his hands and forced his fingers to release the stick. The chrono on the instrument panel tells him thirty minutes passed since Arsen left. He cannot allow himself to appear out of control or anything less than professional. Pushing his shoulders back, he ignored the taunting fires raging in his heart and climbed to his feet. The world he knew, the world he used as a barrier against conflicting needs of lust and duty. The desire that often took him by surprise. In a moment of indecision, it fell from his grasp and shattered at his feet.

Out of control and desperate to find himself again Danse struggled to remember his identity. He is a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, a leader, and role model. His behavior is always above reproach. He's proud of his career with the Brotherhood, and he believes their work is noble. Loyal and brave… like a fucking dog. Danse pounded his fist into the pilot's chair. This is why he distrusts the pull of the young man named Arsen. Just out of reach is the promise of happiness and satisfaction if he allows himself to bend.

But if he cannot allow himself this, why did he ask Arsen to join him outside tonight? Why did he allow the physical contact between them? The side door of the vertibird beckoned. The promise of the cleansing rain drew him toward the opening. Danse threw himself at it, stopping short by gripping the edges of the metal frame. The pelting rain hid the tears he never sheds soaking his face and shoulders. What had he done? By forcing Arsen to yield, he placed everything he knew to be true in peril.

Both angry and bewildered by the power of his desire, Danse realized, through the haze of the confusing emotion, he could have killed his friend. But he hadn't, and there had been no fear in the young man's eyes. Had the passion he saw there matched his own? And where is Paladin Arsen now? Another pang of guilt lanced through his heart. Outside, there is a man, perhaps lost or waiting out the storm. He is responsible for his people. Danse gripped the edges of the hatch.

Arsen is his friend and partner. Memories of Arsen trying to draw him out with teasing and silly jokes to make him smile. Time with Arsen taught him how to unbend. Just a little. Nights around a small campfire were sharing a meal and learning about each other. Small stories, at first, told like tests to earn trust. Later, they developed a way of speaking to each other in shorthand. A look or small movement of the hand signaled information. They moved across the wasteland an invincible army of two. Raiders posted bounties for their head's in every corner of the city and Gunners hunted them across the Commonwealth.

The day Arsen almost died in his arms while Danse carried him back to the Prydwen after a Mirelurk attack. Arsen laid his head on his chest piece and curled his fingers into the armor. Danse tried to let go of him in the Infirmary, but Arsen held on. Finally, he uncurled Arsen's fingers from his armor but found himself unwilling to let go. He'd never done this before with any soldier under his command. Why was this different? Danse held on to Arsen's hand while the medics worked on him. Hours later, he was still by his side when Arsen opened his eyes.

"Why are you still here?" Arsen teased his voice quiet and harsh.

"I realized… I thought… No, I believe that you would do this for me."

Arsen laced his fingers with Danse and smiled, "You're right." Danse watched the man's eyes close again. Only a summons from Elder Maxson had pulled him away.

With a soldier's eyes, he scanned the area while his heart beat like a warning bell inside his chest Danse charged into the night. Perhaps Arsen is injured and lays rain-drenched and shivering? Hiding from a prowling animal? A band of Raiders may have him pinned. Mirelurks roam the beaches in this kind of weather. The rain obscured the shoreline, blurring everything into odd shapes.

The movement and familiar sense of responsibility calmed him, and he began to come back to himself. A Paladin is responsible for his troops. A Paladin is always on duty. A momentary lapse is all he'll forgive himself. Arsen needs him, and he will not forsake his comrade. This was Arsen's night for celebration, not lost in a storm. He will locate Paladin Arsen and return him safely to the Prydwen.

Although he searched, Paladin Arsen either cannot or will not answer his radio or the sound of Danse shouting his name. A lightning strike lit up the area and almost knocked the Paladin off his feet. Then he saw the shack and set off at a run toward the closed door. Fear he's never known clutched at his throat and doubts of what if dragged his feet.

"Arsen!"

The torrential rains nearly blinded him by the time he reached the shack. What if he's too late? The splintered green door yielded readily to his body weight. With his weapon drawn and chest heaving, Danse stopped just inside the entrance. On the floor Arsen's still form takes shape. A roll of thunder pushed Danse into the room. A gust of wind crashed the door closed with a sound like a gun going off. Danse surged forward just as Arsen sat up.

With only inches between them, Danse spoke urgently, every breath sustaining Arsen like a balm to his heart.

"You're here?"

"Are you alright?" Danse asked his hands turning the young man's face while he searched for signs of injury. Arsen climbed to his knees until they are thigh to thigh, their chests driven together by the force their embrace.

"I'm fine. I had to get away. Just a coward."

"A coward? No!" Danse's rock-hard facade wasn't holding together. He lowered his gaze. Shifted it away. Turned a little, like he might suddenly bolt but hadn't committed to it.

Arsen sighed touching his forehead against Danse. "Then why can't I face this?"

"Because you were alone. If we face it together—"

"Yes." Arsen's lips ghosted over Danse's mouth. _Oh, God yes._ His heart plummeted. "The consequences—"

"In case you haven't noticed, Paladin Arsen. Worrying about consequences is not in my skill set. We are better together. That is what I learned in four years."

"Then, let's be together. Now." With his fingers pressed into Danse's neck, Arsen pulled him into a kiss. The moment two men had fought for their whole lives came to life. When their lips met the world drifted away with the storm clouds. The time was finally right for them.

Arsen's hand drifted down to the base of Danse's spine. At the first hint of pressure, Danse pulled away. One hand fisted into his shirt and the other palmed around the back of Arsen's head. Danse panted hard against Arsen's lips. "I don't know...I don't know anything,"

This was not the time for explanations or holding back. They would learn this dance together. Arsen's hand spread over Danse's lower back and forced their hips together.

"This is what you do to me. Do you feel it too?"

His answer came with a silent nod. The man in his arms is like the storm outside, filled with energy and tears and looking desperately for release. The openings of Danse's uniform yielded quickly. This part was easy; he'd undressed a woman or two in his day. What to do with the finely sculpted muscles and scars over the man's chest is quite another thing.

Arsen splayed his fingers over Danse's shoulders, slowly massaging the tight flesh. His mouth followed his hands. At the first touch, Danse shivered. "I can't fight this...don't want to. I've always trusted your instincts."

Those words of encouragement filled Arsen with confidence. This was right, not dirty or wrong. Danse gripped his biceps hard enough to draw blood when Arsen slowly opened his trousers and pushed them off Danse's hips. What sprang free was rock hard and in need of attention. When he reached down to open his pants, Danse beat him to it. Eyes locked, they acknowledged the moment and touched each other. Danse bucked hard against the touch, then with mouths clashing, hands began the natural movement and they fell to their side.

Always dominant, Danse rolled Arsen onto his back. No, he had to see. After stripping Danse of the remaining clothes he stood and finished undressing while Danse watched. The roar between his ears blocked out everything but the pulse of the storm outside and the beautiful man watching him undress. He touched himself slowly stroking until Danse rolled his head back.

"Come back," his voice was guttural almost unrecognizable as the intensity of the moment swept them away. Lightning flashed as Arsen's naked body rose above him, muscled flesh rippling with exertion. The lean body he's seen many times and never allowed himself to admire, until now.

Arsen straddled his hips. "Open your eyes."

Pleasure danced down his spine as he watched Arsen wrap his hand around them. Hot and wet, Arsen's heartbeat thrummed along his length. His hips responded by pushing into Arsen's hand.

"Fuck!" Danse tried to move away, but Arsen gripped them in his hand. Arsen spread his thumb across the crown gathering moisture, renewing his grip and Danse helplessly arched his hips slamming back onto Arsen's fist.

Arsen tried to ignore the white hot need boiling inside to watch Danse's reactions. The muscular chest quivered as muscles responded to the unexpected stimulation. With his head thrown back and fingers clenched into Arsen's thighs, he's holding on to stay centered in a world suddenly spinning around him. Once, the heat of battle was enough to sate the primal energy simmering just under the surface. Just an hour ago, shielded in the trappings of military uniforms and ceremony he'd be safe from this maelstrom.

With the man's hand pistoning, pulling the pleasure from them. It's a force that will not be denied. Danse moved his hips faster, in time with Arsen's fist. The sensations drive him to finish, each thrust into Arsen's hand takes him to a new level of arousal. Losing control? He's pinned to the floor by a man holding a death grip on their dicks. Hot, wet and naked, this is the exact opposite of the cold steel of his armor and the body trapped inside. Above him, moving over him he watched Arsen move. His body glistened with sweat, and the cadence of his panting pushed Danse into oblivion.

"Arsen!"

Because it is Danse calling him, Arsen rolled his head forward and opened his eyes. And there it is, the familiar, fierce brown eyes he's seen narrowed with anger, pride or frustration. Here, now tonight, are the eyes that invade his dreams. Warm and alive with passion, skin flushed, and the power and strength of the man beneath him. Their world and their vision narrow when they cleave together. At last, they found themselves and each other. Neither man looks away. Arsen's movements become jerky and slow until he threw his head back and cried out Danse's name. They both came hard, pent up desire surging over his hand and chest.

Arsen began to fall forward, and Danse caught him rolling them to their side. Until they can face the intimacy, Danse wrapped an arm and leg around Arsen and pulled him against his body. He cannot face what just happened, but he can do this for his friend. Danse placed a soothing hand on Arsen's head while into his shoulder Arsen breathes in short jerky gasps.

How long has he waited for this? This validation of strength against strength. The acknowledgment of the man hidden in the good husband, son, and father. Words well up in him, but he chokes them down while fighting the urge to weep. He wants to ask, please don't let go, but that would be childish. He wants to express words of love, but he's too good a soldier to beg for that kind of emotional recognition. This is more than he can repress and the clarity he finds in Danse's embrace is all the answer he requires.

His lips move over the shoulder that pillows his head and Arsen whispers, "Thank you."

* * *

 

"Midnight Confessions"

The Grass Roots

youtube watch?v=Cc9B3aoIwJs

~o~

"The sound of your footsteps

Telling me that you're near

Your soft gentle motion, baby

Brings out the need in me that no one can hear, except

~o~

In my midnight confessions

When I tell all the world that I love you

In my midnight confessions

When I say all the things that I want to

I love you

~o~

But a little gold ring you wear on your hand makes me understand

There's another before me, you'll never be mine

I'm wasting my time

~o~

Staggering through the daytime

Your image on my mind

Passing so close beside you, baby

Sometimes the feelings are so hard to hide, but

~o~

In my midnight confessions

When I tell all the world that I love you

In my midnight confessions

When I say all the things that I want to

I love you"


	4. The Price for Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know Taffington Boathouse doesn't have any artifacts or documents. I picked it because there's no one already living there and it's a nice place for future Danse and Arsen shenanigans. The smell of those rotting Brahmin must be fierce though and not very romantic.

* * *

"You are mine. Even if the world shatters around me now." - Iason Mink (Ai No Kusabi)

* * *

 

Curled together the men slept in a tangle of arms and legs. They found comfort in each other while Danse wrapped himself around Arsen with the man's head pillowed on his bicep. During the night, Arsen rolled over on his back and Danse rested his head on his chest one arm slung possessively over Arsen's hips.

Night had slipped away just as Paladin Arsen opened his eyes and noticed three things in quick succession. That's snow slipping past the cracks in the door and walls. He's naked and surprisingly he's not cold. An experimental stretch of his legs revealed the source of warmth when Paladin Danse stirred and spread his massive hands over Arsen's torso to pull him closer.

The long body behind him couched him in warmth. Breath hitched suddenly when something hard and insistent slid between the cheeks of his buttocks. His hips arched toward the seeking body. He shuddered with the need of the overwhelming desire to be filled. Arsen groaned, pushing back against into Danse's larger frame.

Arsen started to roll over on his back, but Danse stopped him. Instead, he tucked his chin between Arsen's head and neck. "Arsen? Last night. Why did you thank me? I don't understand."

"Because, _I love you_ , seemed a bit premature."

"You love me?"

"You're surprised?"

The senior Paladin shifted so Arsen could roll onto his back. Danse moved over him and braced on his forearms to study Arsen's expression.

"I am not surprised…"

If he felt unsure, Danse's shy smile lifted his heart. Framing Danse's head with his hands he lifted his head to kiss the warm mouth.

"Last night...I want that again. Tell me that wasn't a dream. Tell me it can happen again, Danse." The man's name came out of his mouth in one long breath. Danse closed his lips over Arsen's hand and inhaled the man beneath him.

"This will not be easy for me. I've been alone for such a long time. I don't even know how to act around you."

"What are you talking about?" Their tentative hold on this new intimacy shattered when the distant sound of a vertibird shattered their attention and broke them apart. Of course, someone would come looking for them Danse rolled gracefully to his feet and looked out the window.

"They're headed this way. I'll go out."

Arsen tore his eyes away from the majestic body and jutting erection and climbed to his feet. Pulling on his uniform, he said. "Danse. No. I'll say I had too much to drink and the weather closed in and I had to land here. I spent the night right here."

Danse was already shaking his head. "No, you will not take the blame for my weakness."

 _What?_ "Danse, please don't let me misunderstand you. You thought of this as a weakness?" His heart plummeted leaving cold and greasy nausea burning in his gut. No, that couldn't be right. Not after... not after last night.

Arsen shoved his feet into his boots and opened the door. The vertibird settled on the shoreline.

"Arsen wait."

Arsen shouted over the racket of the vertibird's props, "I'm going and for fuck's sake, just stay out of sight until we're gone, And just so we're clear, Paladin Danse. I promise I'll never lead you into this weakness, as you call it, again."

Struck silent by Arsen's anger. Danse knew he's a man of few words, but the events of the last twelve hours required a new vocabulary. Confused, Danse sank to his knees and closed the clasps of his uniform. Breathing deeply to quiet his body's craving, he murmured as if Arsen might hear him, "I meant...I didn't mean weakness."

If all the things he knew about Arsen, his unflinching courage and willingness to befriend a man like himself. If the generosity he's shown to Danse meant love. If their first night together spoke of such intimacies, then he knew he loved these things about Arsen, then it must be true.

"I meant to say, that I love you, too." Saying the words aloud didn't give him the peace he anticipated. Danse stepped out of the cottage and watched the sky. Arsen could no longer hear him because he's followed the other vertibird back to the _Prydwen._ With a last tug at his uniform, Danse set out for the bridge that crossed the inlet toward the airport.

~0o0~

No one questioned Arsen when he stepped aboard the airship. A guard silently escorted him to Elder Maxson. He waited for it, but no one asked where he'd gone. Elder Maxson shook his hand and spoke with all the enthusiasm he's capable of about all the new duties he planned for Arsen.

There was barely time for him to wash and change from his rumpled dress uniform into fatigues before he was sent on a mission to recover documents and a valuable artifact from the area around of what had once been the called Taffington Boathouse.

Locked inside his power armor, Paladin Arsen headed south. Without the companionship of Paladin Danse the roads were long and the night's quiet. Inside his head logic and duty clamor for attention over the memories of Danse's touch and the salty sweat taste of him. Morning often found him watching the stars silenced by the rising sun. What he learned about himself that night with Danse cannot be unlearned. His body remembered and sang with desire for those large calloused hands to touch him again. To force himself to ignore his body's needs he stayed inside his armor where he cannot touch himself. Only the call of nature allowed the armor to open.

Because there are other tasks for him to perform and settlements to visit it was two weeks before Arsen smelled the sea again and approached the empty mansion known as Taffington Boathouse. If his thoughts weren't full of the mistakes he made with Danse and the loss of his friendship if he weren't exhausted from journeying alone the angry buzz of insects wouldn't have caught him by surprise.

They attacked before he could defend himself. Arsen spun hard and headed for the house. The power armor protested just long enough for Arsen to lose his center of balance and trip over the bloated body of a Brahmin. They sensed their moment, and surround him. Intent on their next meal they seem to know exactly where to strike at the power armor to inflict the most damage. Dropping to a knee, Arsen aimed at the first one. The creature exploded at his feet releasing a cloud of toxic gas as it died.

A vampiric bloodbug waited for its moment and dove hard into Arsen's neck. His shotgun skittered away as he brought his hands up to protect himself. The stinger sliced through his shoulder striking deeply into his chest. Another bloodbug attacked, Arsen kicked at the deadly insect and knocked it back long enough for him to locate his weapon.

The poison spread over his armor blocking airflow and weakening him. God how he hated these things. Hands fumbled to reload the shotgun. Lungs labored to fill with air. He choked on the bile bubbling up while throat began to close. Arsen emptied his shotgun again and scrambled for the house. Behind him, the dirty maggots of a Bloatfly rained blows to his back and shoulders. Their stench leaked inside his weakened armor. Vomit spilled into his helmet.

If he can just make it into the house. The stairs swam into view as he grabbed for the old wooden railing. The rotten wood splintered in his armored fist, and he fell on the smell was so bad it tore the air from his throat, and he fought between gasping for air or inhaling the filthy poison. Retching uncontrollably Arsen stumbled through the front door and turned hard to force himself up the staircase. The roof was open, but at least he could back himself into a corner and defend himself.

The stair railing splintered in his hand, and he went down from the blow of another stingwing. The stingwing's aim was true Arsen twisted to escape the poisonous bite when the stinger slid between the plates of his pauldrons and helmet. The stinger struck deep inside his armor. The toxin ignited his skin and boiled his blood. He cried out, but there is no one to hear him.

His hand found his belt. A stimpak! Arsen rammed the needle into his thigh and hit the plunger with his weight behind it. Just one stimpak and he's on his feet again. The top of the staircase waivered, but Arsen set his sights on making it to the top and willed himself to action. There's only one left behind him now, and it must be tired after stinging him so many times. Arsen tasted blood in his mouth now that the poison prevented his blood from clotting.

On his hands and knees, Arsen crawled forward until he could let himself fall and turn over. The angry stingwing is so close he can see the faceted eyes. The shotgun exploded, and the thing disintegrated. Worn out and sick, Arsen let his head drop on the wooden floor. He only needs a moment to rest. Just a moment more. His power armor helmet landed on the wooden planks with a thump—Paladin Danse once advised about the dangers of removing his helmet—Arsen followed it with a spray of bloody phlegm.

The last thing he will remember was another bloodbug entering through the upstairs window. His arms flailed for another weapon, but he can no longer see. The angry buzz filled his ears, competing with the throbbing sound of his heart making the last stand at keeping him alive. The stinger cut deeply into in his chest. Vomit spilled from his mouth and choked him. Arsen clawed at the floor to turn himself over. The vomit is hot and filled his mouth with fire.

He made it to his hands and knees and finally cleared his mouth. It's too late. The toxins from multiple stings wind their way through his bloodstream, system shutting down his organs. Finally, his sight failed as the world narrowed down to the light coming through the upstairs window.

He blamed himself for letting down his guard.

He should have made sure Danse knew what was in his heart. But a soldier doesn't have a heart. If the service wanted you to have a heart, they'd have issued you one.

Hot tears trickled over his cheeks. The window darkened. The ceiling rippled and folded as if he's looking at it under water. Blood boiled from his mouth.

There's another light, but he can't turn his head.

Then, nothing.


	5. Brother for Brother

* * *

"The love of a man for a woman waxes and wanes like the moon, but the love of brother for brother is steadfast as the stars and endures like the word of the prophet." ―P. C. Wren

* * *

 

Paladin Danse gripped the Prydwen's pitching deck with booted feet and felt his military bearing slip a notch. With his eyes fixed on a spot just over Elder Maxson's left shoulder, he watched the night sky churning in a maelstrom of light, thunder and icy rain. While the wind rocked the Prydwen on her moorings, he realized the trembling, quivering darkness outside fit his mood perfectly. Danse took a deep breath, got his emotions squared away and kept his expression blank. Maxson wasn't pleased with his request, but patience would win the day.

"Careful with your words, Paladin."

The Elder's tone and subtle tightening of his jaw were not lost on Paladin Danse. He planned for this conversation to reach a compromise just short of insubordination. He knew when to push and when to be silent. It was time for silence. A Paladin didn't disobey orders, but a Paladin, who'd survived as long as him, also knew when and how to sidestep a rule or two.

Elder Maxson turned his back on the senior Paladin, stepped to the window and crossed his hands behind his back. Never disrespectful, Danse suppressed a smile and maintained the position of attention. He knew exactly what Elder Maxson was doing. He was counting. And when he got to one hundred he would give Danse an answer.

Danse knew Maxson trusted his Paladin and owed him his life several times over. Never friendly because neither man possessed that particular skill set or crossed the line between subordinate and senior officer. Still, they knew the measure of each other. And, all of that, added to a surprised Danse when Maxson forbid him to search for Paladin Arsen.

"Paladin Arsen is experienced and well armed. I need you in the south to oversee a recon op in Quincy. Do that for me and report your findings. But," Maxson waved his hand at the viewport. "Wait for the storm to pass. And, Danse? Get some rest. That's an order. Dismissed."

A smart salute and an aye, sir later, Paladin Danse entered the Flight Deck and ordered a vertibird prepped for immediate takeoff. While he waited, he kept an eye on the weather and paced. Paladin Danse was not the type of soldier who resorted to pacing. When he noticed something broken, he fixed it. If a Synth got in his way, he shut it down, and that went for Deathclaws, Raiders and anything else that got between him and the mission goals.

Danse preferred things in black and white. Right or wrong. On or off. With few gray areas in his life, being a soldier was relatively simple That did not include Paladin Arsen and his whereabouts. A gray area that grew in a place he never gave much attention threatened to overwhelm him. Pacing alleviated the driving need to rip the fuel line from the recruit's hands. Something was wrong; he knew it. Just as he knew, Arsen needed him. He knew it as well as he knew the weight and capabilities of his armor or the controls of vertibird's airframe.

Screw the weather.

Finally, the flight crew backed respectfully out of his way. Rain washed over the deck like surf against a shoreline. Danse ignored the storm and climbed into the cockpit. An experienced pilot could fly in this weather. How many times had he navigated to safe haven in one of those radiation storms? Plenty of times. He logged his flight plan and set course for Quincy. And he had every intention of arriving in Quincy in about one hour. One hour after that he planned to head North to search for his friend.

I'm coming, Arsen.

The Quincy ruins were quiet when Danse dropped the vertibird out of the scudding clouds to the broken concrete of an old parking lot. A Knight Captain trotted out to the ship before he'd shut down the engine. Danse watched the young woman slid to a stop on the uneven pavement. She snapped to attention and kept her eyes on the horizon. Breathless with a blush creeping up her neck, her words came out in a rush of nerves when Danse dropped to the ground.

"Paladin Danse! Welcome to Quincy. If you'll follow me, sir. I'll take you to the briefing area."

He could never understand why he made some people uncomfortable.

Hidden inside his helmet, Danse drew a long breath, convinced himself this was for all the right reasons and prepared himself to tell the first lie of his adult life.

"Thank you, Knight Captain. I'm called away on another matter. I have every confidence in your ability to continue with the mission. I'll check in with you as required by mission parameters and look forward to reading your after action report. Ad Victorium, Knight Captain. Carry on."

With a confused look and a wrinkled brown, which he ignored and she quickly covered, the Knight Captain stepped back, saluted, executed a perfect about-face and marched back to her soldiers. A smart soldier never questioned authority and one whose ambitions ran to making the rank of Paladin insured orders were carried out.

He watched her walk away. His list of his crimes growing by the hour. But the desire to get to Arsen filled him with a need that overrode the training and indoctrination. That gray area beckoned. At least, he had the grace to feel some shame. Engines roaring, Danse yanked the stick, put the vertibird into a tight circle and headed NorthWest.

Finally, the weather began to cooperate. Danse dropped the vertibird to skim over the Commonwealth at treetop level. His instincts pushed him west. When radio chatter distracted him, and he turned it off; Another regulation tossed away for his convenience. Taffington Boathouse appeared through the fog, floating on the icy water. Danse circled. The building and surrounding area seemed empty. A quick pass gained him the attention of some mutants at a nearby hospital. Two well placed air-to-ground missiles quieted them and calmed Danse. I'll send you all back to hell.

The Mutants put down; Danse turned back to the house. He wondered what it might be like to live in a house. A snug little home with a dock and the peaceful sound of water lapping against the pilings. Daydreaming? Another gray area. He shook himself and renewed his grip on the controls.

A third pass revealed three adults waving from the dock behind the house. Danse studied their attire. They weren't dressed like Raiders or wearing armor. A woman and two men. Running on instinct, Paladin Danse settled the vertibird in front of the house on the wide patch of road.

The woman ran to him, ignoring the spinning blades and grabbed him by his armored forearms. He didn't much like being grabbed.

"Can you help us? My man is sick."

"Are you settlers?" He asked, noting the phrase, my man.

The woman glanced back at the men. "Yes!" One of them answered quickly. "The four of us found this empty house."

Danse didn't much like being lied to, either. And he could smell a lie at a hundred yards. Well, maybe ten yards. You had to note the body language. Danse stayed quiet and let them spin their tale. While they fumbled through their story, Danse took a look at their clothes.

"I could take a look at him. I have medical supplies." These three were nothing he couldn't handle. He had to be sure. If Arsen was in there, he had to be sure.

The two men didn't hesitate. "Yeah, that would be great. Come on in."

Danse entered the house with the three trailing behind him. An adrenaline surge set his heart thumping and his soldier's instincts on high alert. Inside were the usual rudiments required for survival. On a splintered coffee table he noticed several Jet applicators. Skeletons littered the floor, which was nothing new, but these skeletons were broken up and the dust disturbed…Danse swallowed hard. As if they'd been picked up and dropped. They were also without clothes, and that was also unusual.

Dark clouds obscured the sun again, sending the dusty old house into shadows. A few guttering candles, stinking with the smell of animal fat painted a garish light on the walls. Paladin Danse blinked through the sudden change of light. Dusty footprints lead him into what was once the kitchen. Through the archway he found a pair of cots with the legs tied together.

"That's him. That's my man. We think...I mean, we saw him get attacked by a bunch a'them blood sucking bugs."

Danse removed his helmet. The figure on the bed lay curled on his side away from him. But he knew. Of course, he knew. The curling fringe of sun-bleached hair is visible above the of the frayed edge of the blanket. The familiar hand clutching a corner of the thin fabric. The US Navy tattoo on his upper right arm. Dance pulled off his glove and covered the mark with his hand. A memory stirred of moving his lips across the dark-inked shape just to see if it tasted differently than the skin on Arsen's shoulder.

Danse dropped to his knees.

The figure on the bed rolled toward him, curling into Danse. A pale hand covered his. Then Arsen opened his eyes.

"Raiders," came out in a hoarse whisper.

The filthy clothes, the broken skeletons. He'd allowed himself to be distracted. His hand went for his weapon when something slammed into his shoulder. Tossing Arsen a short double-barreled shotgun, Danse pitched his body to the side and rolled to his feet.

Shotgun blasts echoed around the room.

The female screamed an obscenity at him. Was that slow burn in his heart, consuming his thoughts, jealousy? Interesting. Danse's lips formed into a feral grin when he shut her mouth with the fiery stream from a precisely aimed laser rifle.

My man, indeed.

Outside he heard the sound of splashing as the two men tried to escape. One of them had stupidly donned Arsen's power armor and tried to escape into the water. In his haste, he left the helmet on the dock. The Paladin made a mental note to retrieve the armor once the Raider had thoroughly drowned.

The other, his feet pounding on the wooden deck, continued firing through the windows. Checking the kitchen floor, Dance noted Arsen had taken cover under his bed. Good. Danse met the last Raider at the front door with the butt of his laser rifle. The man screamed once and went down, blood spurting between his fingers.

Angry buzzing reached his ears, and the stinking filth of a bloatfly slapped against the door. Danse shoved it closed in the face of another swarm of blood sucking insects. On the other side, one of the giant insects slammed into the wood. Danse headed toward Arsen, gathering him up his arms and carried him to the couch.

Outside, the buzzing grew apace with remaining Raider's screaming.

Danse ignored it and set his laser rifle on the table in case the insects tried to enter the house. Once he made sure the room was as safe as he could make it he joined Arsen on the couch.

Danse looked into the pale face and tried to keep his voice even. "Are you alright? Can you sit?"

"Not yet. Do you have any food? They kept me alive with stimpaks, dirty water and not much else."

"Goddamnit," Danse swore, gathering a bowl of vegetable soup from his supplies. While the soup heated, he climbed out of his armor.

"How did you find me?"

"I'm not sure, and that's the truth. Here, eat."

Soup bowl empty and a long sip of purified water later, Arsen allowed his head and shoulders limp against Danse's chest, Arsen chuckled.

"Can I ask one more favor?"

"Not sure. Saving your life might be enough for one day." Danse murmured into his hair

"Well, if it's not too much trouble. I gotta piss. And not in that jar. Not again. I think I can manage a few feet to the door if you'll just make sure I don't fall in."

Together they got him on his feet. With Danse's arm around his shoulders, he guided Arsen to the door and out to the dock.

"Need help with that?"

"Maybe later."

Danse let Arsen lean back against him while he emptied his bladder into the river.

"What the hell is that?" He asked staring at the bulging eyes and open mouth stare of the raider who drowned in Arsen's power armor just a few feet below the surface.

"He tried to get away in your armor."

Arsen sagged, going weak at the knees. Danse was here, and everything would be alright.

"Danse? I…"

Paladin Danse lifted Arsen in his arms and took him back to the couch. He found a bomber jacket in Arsen's pack and laid it under his head to keep his face away from the dirty fabric.

Arsen took his hand and tugged him down. "Thank you. I don't know how you found me."

The gray area of relief and the profound sense of attachment finally overtook him. Danse carded his fingers through Arsen's curling blond hair, cupping the back of his head with his palm.

"Can you sleep?"

Dark blue eyes turned up to his, crinkling at the corners, "Yes. Bend down here just a little more?"

As soon as Arsen could reach his face he rubbed his nose into Danse's beard stubble and drifted his lips across this cheek.

"Thank you."

Before Danse could respond, Arsen was asleep. He laid him gently back on the jacket, smoothing his hair back with his fingertips.

"You're welcome," he replied pulling Arsen into his arms and holding the blond head against his shoulder. How close had he come to losing this man? It didn't matter. Not now. He was here and with food and rest, Arsen would recover. Danse stayed with him, watching his features smooth out as he relaxed. When he was sure Arsen was sleeping, Danse searched for the workbench.

Maybe he'd better retrieve Arsen's armor from the river first. Damn rust was almost impossible to remove. He hated rust.


	6. Emotion in Motion

 

* * *

"Sex is emotion in motion." —Mae West

* * *

 Arsen woke slowly, blinking, and rolled carefully to his side. And sighed with gratitude when he realized the sun was no longer in his eyes. A persistent headache, that he'd begun to believe would never leave was finally gone. But, God he was tired. Weary eyes noticed the windows are covered with...flags? The was floor swept clear of debris, and the backdoor an actual door. He thought he might miss watching the water, but not worrying about when the next blood bug came to visit a plus. Next to his bed the noticed a plate of mutfruit, purified water and a bowl of vegetable soup. Danse, of course. Warmth diffused his tired muscles and his chest flooded at the thought of the man and his thoughtfulness.

A piece of fruit and a sip of water later, Arsen fell back on the pillow. For the first time in days, he felt like he belonged in his own body. Listening for the Paladin's presence in the house his eyes drifted closed his eyes while the quiet and occasional birdsong lulled him back to sleep.

Although time passed, Arsen couldn't judge how long he'd been asleep. The smell of food cooking and the sound of a hammer against wood woke him the second time. Sick of sleeping, sick of being sick and thoroughly and completely sick of this bed. Determined to get out of bed on his own, Arsen ground his teeth, rolled out of bed and landed on his hands and knees. One of his feet kicked a bottle. It landed against a wall and shattered.

"Wha'the hell?" Using the bed to pull himself up he reached for the wall. With the wall for support, he headed with slow steps toward the front door. With the wall for support, he headed toward the front door. Just as he reached for the door, it opened, and there stood a shirtless Danse. Dizziness that had nothing to do with illness rocked Arsen on his feet. His hands reached out for support and made contact with the solid wall of the Paladin's chest.

"Heeeyyyy. Would you mind catching me? I…"

Arsen found himself swept off his feet and deposited on the couch.

"W-Wait. Stay here." Arms and hands that no longer seemed attached to his body stretched toward Danse.

"I am sweaty and dirty."

Arsen tugged his arm and Danse obediently dropped to the cushions. He didn't exactly fight him.

"Thas'a good Paladin. Now, hol' still for a minute." Arsen tucked himself under the larger man's arm and wrapped his arms around Danse's torso. "Is' good to see you."

"It's good to see you, as well. Let me get a look at you. You are slurring your words." Danse tipped his head back.

_He's alive._

"I smell alcohol on your breath."

"Alcohol? Jus'been sipping out of that bottle of water you lef' for me."

"Arsen?" What was wrong? Danse extracted himself from the strangely clingy Paladin and retrieved the bottle.

Bobrov's Best Moonshine.

_He's drunk._

"Danse?" Arsen called, trying to push himself off the couch. Danse caught him. "T-thank you for tak'n care of me. You made thiiiss like a home. Nice. Seems like another lifetime when I had a home and the love of my wife." Arsen shuddered over the last words. "I guess it was. S'all gone now."

He'd never heard Arsen talk much about his past life. Except looking for his son, he'd never heard Arsen mention details. The man was in no shape to be walking around. Danse sat back on the cushions and pulled Arsen against his chest to hold him still.

"Thankssssss. You know something? Member that old movie, The Wizard of Oz? No? Well, she just clicked her heels together and wham there she was, back home in her own bed. I can't go home."

With a tenderness he didn't understand, Danse cupped Arsen's face with his hand and pressed the golden head against his chest. The words, you are home stuck in his throat. He couldn't say them because he's never said them before and his sense of timing for this kind of thing was nonexistent. He went for the truth.

"Before I met you I thought I had all the answers."

"Yeah? Me too. Thought I had all the answerssss."

"That woman claimed you were her man. I don't remember ever feeling jealous."

"She was just saying that to protect her cover. I'm right where I want to be and it surprises and confuses me. Well, I'm just going on instincts here. Danse? I jus'wanted to say…the night we spent together…what you've done with this house…Danse? Am I in love with you?"

The Paladin allowed his head to fall back. Something stung his eyes, and he scrubbed them with his free hand. Must be the dust. 'Am I in love with you?' Such an innocent question. He didn't know that answer either. Never had. Love? A word that didn't exist in this world or his vocabulary. He knew only of his duties, violence, and the daily fight for survival. Endless responsibilities and holding himself to a nearly impossible standard.

He believed in the Brotherhood. Nothing in him made him question Elder Maxson's leadership. But this man. This man who lay so trustingly in his arms knew other things. Arsen knew there was a difference, another opinion and a different way of looking at the world. Arsen understood love. His breath hitched.

"You okay?" Arsen mumbled against his chest sending warm breath across his bare skin.

Danse shivered at the sensation. Yes, that night. He wanted to be touched that way again. To be close enough to Arsen to taste him. Fill his senses with something besides the scent of blood and rotting corpses. He wanted…Danse took a breath and reminded himself that he had no right to ask for those things.

Yet, even Maxson occasionally took a woman to his quarters. He knew it because he was the only Paladin the Elder trusted enough to take a vertibird to one of the farms or settlements and retrieve her. The next morning he took her back. In her arms were always gifts. Usually a large bucket filled with tato seedlings, whiskey, a clean dress and ripe mutfruit. Sometimes a piece of jewelry, that she would always show him, while talking excitedly about how kind the Elder was to her.

Arsen shifted against him

"Thankssssss. Your heart's beating pretty fast. You okay? You know something?" Arsen rubbed his cheek against the solid muscle of the Paladin's chest. "I think. I think, I do love you."

Danse inhaled sharply when Arsen's lips drifted over a hard flat nipple and promptly fell asleep. His head fell back on the couch to process Arsen's words. Yes, his heart beat like the beat of a vertibird prop. The arms that circled Arsen prickled with gooseflesh. His body felt oddly light, and he had to breathe deeply to catch his breath.

The work, doors, and the cleaning, he'd done it for Arsen because he thought many times about what that must have been like living in a clean house with windows, a front door that locked and running water. To sit as they were now, safe and trusting with their arms around each other. Those mechanical devices called televisions. He wondered if Arsen sat this way with his wife and watched the vids that played in those days. Did Arsen have a favorite video?

Although Danse had never been here before, he'd loved it the moment he stepped inside the house. Tucked against the water on a secondary road, it seemed to him a private and comfortable place. While he worked on the house and Arsen recovered he let himself daydream about living here with Arsen. Those dreams would stay locked inside him because he knew they were just the ramblings of a lonely man. So for the moment, for whatever time they had left before duty called again, he would stay here with Arsen safe in his arms and allow himself to dream.

~o0o~

The night began to give way to the light of day when Danse found Arsen bathing inside the small boathouse Thoughts of the breakfast he prepared fled his mind, when his eyes focused on the naked man. Completely naked. Beautifully naked. His hand froze on the rusty doorknob. This wasn't something you often saw in the wastelands. Naked without armor or weapons was a quick path to death as a meal or killed for sport. Through the window he watched Arsen bend to wring out the cloth. Muscles rippled under smooth skin. Strong limbs pulsed with life as Arsen washed. The broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist did things to his insides, blood pulsed and heated.

Arsen cleaned his mouth, turned his back and spit into the water. How did the sight of this man seem to take away his ability to reason and the knowledge that he had a mission to accomplish as no one else ever had? Before Arsen, before the desire for this man assumed precedence over his wants and needs, the occasional sex—when he allowed himself to think about it at all—was quick and without affection. He already knew his hands fit perfectly over the rounded muscles of the backside facing him. Knees softened, and his hand rattled the door with the force of his grip.

Arsen stopped and turned to face the door. Through the broken panes their gaze caught and held. Then slowly, so slowly Danse forgot to breathe, Arsen dropped the cloth and smoothed his hands down his torso. The sight of Arsen's hands caressing the body he hungered for flooded his senses and sent his hands scrambling for purchase on the metal door. Palms gripped the flat surface, and nails scratched the rust Danse watched Arsen stroke himself. One hand massaged his chest, and the other slowly pulled the skin of his organ until it pulsed, hard and needy the tip almost touching the firm belly.

Danse opened the door and stepped inside.

Arsen lips stretched into a lazy grin that sent a bolt of desire through Danse he could not resist.

"This is for you, Paladin Danse. If you're interested." The warmth of his words, the smile that spoke to him of intimacy and trust created hunger deep inside that had nothing to do with breakfast.

"There are beds upstairs…"

Danse watched the bobbing organ as Arsen approached him. A hand went around his neck and lifted his mouth. Then Arsen kissed him, slowly tasting the full lips. "Well, then. Shall we?"

The Paladin followed Arsen up the rickety stairs creaking in protest at their combined weight. The rounded ass level with his eyes, floated in his vision. His tongue licked dry lips.

At the top of the stairs, Danse lifted Arsen by his forearms and pushed him into one of the rooms. Then shoved him against the wall hard enough to shake the dust loose from the ceiling.

"Yes. Take it. Whatever you want. Take it." Arsen bit Danse's lip to punctuate his words.

Pinned to the wall, his hands spread and held by the Paladin breathing into his neck and the rough texture rubbed against his back. The discomfort became pain and pain became lust while he pressed himself against Danse's arousal.

With Arsen's hands still imprisoned, Danse began to move his mouth over Arsen's neck and shoulders. Each new place he discovered earned a kiss. Danse spread his tongue over the firm hills and valleys of hard muscle while Arsen writhed, panting his name.

With his face pressed against the strong stomach, Danse slid to his knees. The scent of Arsen's arousal drifted to his nose. He drew his head back enough to watch a pearl of moisture form on the tip. Danse had never touched anyone this way. Never used his mouth to do more than eat or give orders.

Pleasure? To give another pleasure? To share that pleasure? Danse released one of Arsen's hands to touch the organ throbbing against his cheek.

Arsen's back arched off the wall. "Oh, fuck. Danse. Please."

Danse used his hand to guide… opened his mouth to kiss… But, Arsen had other ideas, and the second Danse touched the dripping organ to his mouth Arsen pushed hard. Then came the slow, steady pull and glide of Arsen pushing in deeper, one hand wrapping around the back of Danse's neck.

Danse closed his eyes. Salt. Sweat. The overwhelming maleness of Arsen's taste of sweet spice on his tongue and the tickle of hair against his nose. Danse relaxed his throat and wrapped his arms around Arsen's hips.

"Damn, you feel good," he breathed. "You feel fantastic." Arsen's voice trailed off into a moan.

Danse glanced up and watched Arsen's eyes close eyes and lifted his hips in search of more friction.

"Fuck… Danse. You are… what you're doing… "

Leaning on his wrists to keep him immobile gave Danse some leverage, Danse moved in time to Arsen's thrusts. They caught a rhythm moving to the sound of Arsen's moans and whimpers. His fingers curled around empty air, and his wrists twitched to free themselves.

Following his instincts, Danse pushed Arsen until he stared up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. His lips parted. He closed his eyes and trembled as he murmured, "Danse. Oh God, Danse…"

Shaken to his soul, he forced open his eyes to watch Danse.

"Move. Move…or…"

But Paladin Danse had no intention of going anywhere. He wanted every second of this. Every second of the trust Arsen placed in him for such an intimate act. Danse pushed Arsen deep to taste the thick length again, flicking his tongue along the underside, the long pulsing vein the stretched down the thick length.

The Paladin was devastated. The emotional barrage of the need to connect, to give Arsen what he needed. The lust and desire pushed him on. Arsen tensed every muscle under the Paladin's hands. He froze in place. A moment later he shattered. It was too much, his back arched again and with a soft, helpless sound, Arsen completely unraveled. Danse let the taste of Arsen's lust splash into his waiting mouth.

Arsen touched Dance's forehead. He thought he would take Danse to the bed. It was just a few steps away. Instead, he slid to the floor, with his brow furrowed, fists clenched, lips parted, Arsen could only stare at Danse.

"Give me a minute… I'm not sure what you did to me, but I think I may have died and come back to life."

Glassy-eyed, neither man knew what to say. The affection proved easier than words. The craving for the touch of calloused hands impossible to resist. A lazy kiss later, Arsen murmured against the Paladin's mouth.

"I know. I feel it, too."

While they shared another kiss, Arsen's hands went to work peeling the white t-shirt over muscled abs and shoulders. Finally, Arsen pushed himself to his feet, "Come on. All of it."

When Danse stood naked before him, Arsen reached out to follow his eyes with a hand. The sculpted shoulders, the scars, the flat abs, the flushed and pulsing desire curving from the brown curls. Arsen licked his lips, and deliberately pushed aside his breathless need to fill his mouth with him. Fingers dug into biceps, "Danse. Tell me what you want. Tell me or show me. I need to know. I need…"

The answer was Arsen pushed down against the mattress. Shy, affectionate touch replaced by the fierce strength of the Paladin's grip on this hips.

Oh, my fucking god. This was happening. Really happening.

Danse pushed himself between the cheeks of Arsen's ass and bent over his back, his voice thick and heavy. "You almost died. I couldn't get to you."

Danse pumped himself into the tight flesh. Arsen's arched his back aching for more. Then he got his wish when Danse carefully pushed himself inside Arsen. And it hurt. No one had ever touched him like this. The burn turned to need, the intrusion filled him with the need to move. To push back and forth, driving Danse deeper.

"You will not leave me again."

"Fuck. Danse. I promise. Just don't stop."

Danse pulled back and pushed himself back into the warm haven of Arsen's body. That was his last coherent thought. The need for fulfillment drove him to pump like a man out of control. He was never out of control. Never.

Arsen trusted him. Arsen hadn't pulled away.

Danse lifted Arsen's legs and drove himself deeper. Deep into the heat and the pulsing muscles that pulled and pulsed with the promise of sweet release. The sight of Arsen's sweat drenched muscles rippling under his touch. Arsen's hands fisted into the sheets. Arsen's panting breath. He reached around and took Arsen into his hand. With Arsen's voice ringing in his ears, Danse lost control. He never used words of affection, but right now as he drove himself into his friend those words tumbled from his lips. For a moment he felt embarrassment at the sentiment.

Sentimentality. Love. Friendship. Care. Arsen knew those words.

"Arsen, I cannot."

"Don't you dare stop."

"I-I want to learn. I want to love…Arsen!" Everything he was, every thought, every emotion he kept at bay poured itself into the writhing man beneath him. It ran along his nerves and down his spine like fire scorching his emotions.

Occasionally and only when he knew no one could see him, he'd brought himself to orgasm with his hand. Then breathlessly watch his semen spurt to the ground. The lightheadedness that followed always left him lonely and empty.

Danse's body tightened while his grip on Arsen's legs increased. He drove himself deeper and Arsen pushed back inviting him in, pulling at him until he felt himself emptying into Arsen. Lightheaded, yes. Lonely, no.

A second later, Arsen let go and Danse felt the warm seed flow over his hand.

This was a gift, not something to cause shame. Not something to waste in a heated moment of inconvenience. This was for Arsen. Danse pulled them down to the bed, gently catching Arsen against him as they fell.

"Are you alright?"

The unmistakable sound of splintering wood broke them apart. The staccato sound of boots on wooden floors. The clank of power armor. The beat of a vertibird's blades churning up dust and debris. How could he have missed that sound? A voice echoed up the staircase.

"Paladin Danse. On the order of Elder Maxson, you will accompany us back to the Prydwen. Present yourself immediately."


	7. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Figured it was time to say something here. I began this story long before I successfully romanced Danse. That’s why I’ve played a bit fast and loose with dialogue and situations. Besides, you don’t want to read a story regurgitated from the game. You already know that story, right?

* * *

“Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not.”  
William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part III

* * *

 

Danse rose up on his forearms listening to the sounds rising from the first floor.Those sounds broke them apart, but it took several seconds longer to let go. He’d spent the last minutes marveling at the array of sensations waiting for him after his orgasm.

Like good soldiers, Arsen and Danse dressed quickly. Dragging their clothes over languid muscles, the scent of sex lingered in the air and chests heaved with exertion. The sticky results of their lust still clinging to their skin stretched between them like an imaginary thread that might break with the slightest of pressure.  
When the Knights charged into the room, they found Arsen and Danse fully clothed and battle ready. Paladin Danse didn’t kid himself. He was in trouble and although a novel experience he knew the repercussions wouldn’t be. Before the Knights lead him away, he caught Arsen’s eye.

“I love you, too.” he mouthed. The blow of a minigun into his hip brought his attention back to the Knights.

“Paladin Arsen, you are to report to Elder Maxson before nightfall. Understood?” The Knight’s tone sent a sliver of ice down his spine.

There’s no question that he will obey, but in his mind a thought floated unbidden, What now? What small infraction had they stumbled over? His eyes remained on Danse, his hands still reaching as if he wondered how Danse’s body fell from his grip.

“Understood.”

The sounds of the vertibird drifted into the distance. Taffington Boathouse faded into what it was, a broken down house with broken windows and rotting timber. Arsen dropped to the bed and smoothed his hand over the sheet. The action reminded him of what transpired between them just an hour ago. He should wash before he returned back to the Prydwen. Danse may need him and whatever testimony Maxson required to satisfy his suspicions.

Arsen moved slowly reluctant to leave. Only his concern for Danse got him moving. Arsen scrubbed himself and slipped on his BOS fatigues. With a last look round, Arsen slipped into his power armor.  
The airport shimmered under the afternoon sun. Paladin Arsen entered the unnaturally quiet grounds of the old airport and headed straight for a vertibird. Not one of the guards nodded or spoke to him. In fact, he thought they turned away. Arsen climbed into the waiting vertibird and quickly ascended to the Prydwen.

The clang of his boots on the deck sounded more like the sound of a rifle shot. Just a few days ago, they stood right there and finally acknowledged there was something between them that was more than mere soldier comradery. Where was Danse now? In with Maxson or chatting in the Galley? Proctor Teagan. He’s talking to Proctor Teagan.  
Arsen rounded the ladder, and his stomach slid into his throat. Maxson stood with his face a mask and with his head bowed stood Paladin Danse between two Knights.

“Paladin Danse,” he called quietly.

Maxson stepped in quickly, “You were told to report to me.”

“Yes, sir. Paladin Arsen reporting as ordered.” Arsen pulled himself to attention but kept his eyes on Danse. What is happening? Every instinct warned him something was going down, something wrong.

“Danse, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I will not warn you again, Paladin Arsen.”

Better to stay quiet for the moment. Let the situation play out. And hadn’t he learned that from Danse? Arsen sucked in a lungful of air and willed himself to stillness.

“The data you gathered at the Institute proved quite useful. Please don’t bother lying to me about how you failed to notice the list of runaway synths.”

“I haven’t lied about anything, Elder. I may have scanned the data as it downloaded, but I had more important things to do than read science reports. Like staying alive.”

Maxson waved him away. You were doing your job, Knight. It has come to our attention that Paladin Danse is not what he seems. I blame myself. I recruited him. I mentored him. But even I did not see the truth.”

Not what he seems? Why is Maxson discrediting Danse?

“Danse. What’s going on? Look at me.” The butt of a rifle on this lower back reminded him to stay quiet.  
Maxson went on as if nothing happened. “You are not to blame,” he said directing his laser stare toward Arsen. If I couldn’t identify him, how could you be expected to?”

“What is going on?” The next blow took him drove him to his knees. The power armor clanking on the cold deck.  
“Paladin Danse is, to put it bluntly, a synth.”

“What?” Arsen’s mind blanked. No...no...that can’t be the truth. Arsen swayed as the deck seemed to tilt. No, he will not believe it. This can’t be about their relationship. Hadn’t he seen Haylen and Rhys going at it?  
“DNA evidence confirmed the report. Danse is at this moment stripped of his rank and power armor. Get this thing out of my sight.”

Once the room was empty Arsen climbed to his feet. His mind in turmoil he didn’t hear Maxon’s words. Didn’t want to hear them. He’d just had sex with a synth. Allowed a synth hands to touch him...to penetrate… bile rose, and Arsen gagged on it.

While Arsen struggled to compose himself a call over the ship’s comms shattered the quiet.

“Man overboard. Repeat, man overboard. Paladin Danse jumped over the side. Repeat, Paladin Danse escaped.”

“Put the airport on alert. Find him now.”

“Elder Maxson, what are you thinking? He’s the bravest… you can’t just throw him away.”

“We are aware of the perverted relationship between you and the synth. But it’s inadvisable for you to defend it. However, to renew your loyalty to me and confirm your dedication to the Brotherhood your next mission is to rid the Commonwealth of one more synth. You will kill Danse and cleanse the Brotherhood of his taint. Report to Cambridge Police Station for further instructions.”

Kill him? His vision blurred. He managed a, “Yes, sir.” Before he made it outside to vomit over the side of the catwalk.

Scribe Haylan was standing at his side when he recovered. A bottle of purified water appeared in his peripheral vision.

“Thank you, Haylen.”

“Please tell me you won’t hold this against, Paladin Danse?”

“You have to ask?”

Haylen sighed in relief and gestured for Arsen to follow her. She didn’t stop until they were hidden behind a stack of crates.

She turned tear-filled eyes to him, “I understand you’ll have to kill him. But, take me with you so I can say goodbye…and he shouldn’t be alone. He won’t fight it. Then…afterwards we can give him a proper burial.”  
Arsen held out his arms to her, and she walked into his embrace. “I won’t let it go that far, Haylen. I couldn’t,” he murmured against her hair. “Do you know where he is? We can’t protect him from here.”

“Do you mean it?”

“You know I do,” Arsen said, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Then let's get down to the police station.”

The police station yielded fresh horrors. Inside, Scribe Rhys was taking odds on how much longer Danse would be allowed to live. The scribes lounged in chairs and laughed with him. It wasn’t until he referred to Danse as a boil on the ass of the Brotherhood of Steel that Arsen hit him. And damn, hadn’t that felt good. Arsen watched the sanctimonious little prick go down in a spray of blood. The scribes stopped laughing.

“If I hear you say another word against Paladin Danse I’ll tear your head off. Every single one of you learned from Danse. How can you turn on him? Like he was nothing but a…”

“He is a synth, Knight Arsen and you would do well to remember that,”

Arsen rounded on the Knight Captain entering the room. “That’s rich coming from you. If it hadn’t been for Danse, you’d still be drowning in moonshine and selling sex toys in Goodneighber. So, fuck you. No. Sorry. Fuck you, _sir_.”

Arsen bounced off the wall as he stumbled down the stairs. Outside, all eyes were on him as he tried to decide what to do. Haylen made the decision for him when she followed him down the stairs.

“Get away from me, Haylen. Don’t you understand? They’ll think you’re helping us.”

Haylen threw her arms around Arsen as If she were giving him an innocent hug. One of the guards muttered ‘get a room.'

Arsen buried his face against her wool hat. “Tell me where his is or take me to him.”

When his pip-boy dinged, Haylen, grabbed the front of his armor and whispered urgently, “Take care of him.” Before running up the steps and disappearing into Cambridge Police Station.

They ordered me to kill him…


	8. Ad Victorium, Brother

 

* * *

"Her face at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale." —Procol Harem

* * *

He left the church with almost no supplies, so it's a close race whether he'll run out of ammo before his fusion core dies. Ammo won. Where were the Feral Ghouls and Raiders when you needed ammo or weapons? Any other time they were crawling up your ass. The endless rain, because of course, it had rained on him every step of the way, turned the path into a morass of gore and mud. The last five miles of washed out trails slowed him down. With only a Super Sledge on his back, by the time he located the narrow trail leading to the entrance of Listening Post Bravo Arsen was nearly frantic with the need to get to Danse. He could only hope he was far enough ahead of Elder Maxson to help.

Arsen adjusted the massive sledgehammer on his back. Melee was not his style, but the Super Sledge would have to do. Not that it wasn't an effective weapon. He was better at ranged weapons and sniping…and that reminded him of one of the reasons he and Danse made such a good team. Danse used his phaser rifle like he was born with it in his hands, but he also loved wading in to knock heads, while Arsen picked off the cowards and runners from a distance.

Anxiety churned his stomach into knots and his body smelled like mold. Had he arrived in time? What was the Paladin's state of mind? Ten miles to decide Danse would assume Arsen turned him in. He owed his life to Danse and not just once. They'd forged a bond the depth of which he could not readily define. But Danse never understood why Arsen went to the Institute by himself.

Arsen scanned the security monitor for the valid password. How is that these things always worked, but nothing else did? He kicked the door when the monitor politely let him know he'd picked the wrong password. Arsen rested his arm above the screen to shield it from the rain. What if Danse weren't here? He wouldn't go to any of the settlements. Everyone knew him and even if they didn't mean to out him, it was only a matter of time before one of the provisioners or Trashcan Carla would mention it to a settler who'd mention it to another settler. Anyway, it wouldn't be like him to seek other people.

_Where are you?_

Arsen kicked the door again. Maybe he should get out of his power armor so he can use his fingers?

Three years ago, the residents of Sanctuary sent out an emergency summons to Paladin Danse. Trashcan Carla and Mama Murphy overheard shouting and the sound of things breaking inside what had once been Arsen's home. Until that night, Arsen used it as a sanctuary for his personal use. No one dared touch the furniture or toys and only entered if invited. Occasionally, they would watch Arsen purchase a bottle of whiskey from a provisioner and disappear into the room for the night or a day or two. They all knew what was going on, so they didn't interfere and watched over him from their vantage point on the opposite side of the street.

That night was different. They knew it. Something felt off. Everyone knew he'd been to the Institute, and back. Mama Murphy had tried to get him to talk, but he waved off her attempts. Sturges offered to get drunk with him, but Arsen slammed the door in his face. He hadn't wanted anyone to know what he learned about his son. All of them had lost loved ones, been chased off their land, maimed or traumatized by Raiders. They lived in constant fear of the many animals and humans, the Institute being just one of many, that could take their lives. Was his grief and loss any more tragic than theirs?

Two hours later, when the vertibird finally landed, the settlers surrounded Danse and followed him to the house. Some claimed they heard weeping, that Arsen's son was dead. His son was a synth. He'd killed his son with his own hands. Arsen went to the Institute and man and came back a synth. How else to account for the strange behavior?

Mama Murphy followed the crowd running from person to person begging for Jet so she could get her visions back. If she had some Jet she could let everyone know what was going on. At the front door, Danse confirmed the settler's claims. Inside they heard shouting and the sound of things crashing. The settlers stepped back when Danse opened the door. The senior Paladin carefully closed the door behind him and stepped out of his power armor.

~o0o~

Heedless of what might wait for him in the dark room Arsen kicked the door open. This time it obeyed. The twisted shadows stank of rot and mold. No sound except the distant sound of a radio playing, Crawl Out Through the Fallout Baby, which for some reason, that escaped him at the moment seemed appropriate. The blinking light of an elevator flickered. Arsen headed straight for it and ran headlong into a protectron robot.

A flash of plasma strafed across his chest piece leaving a trail of super heated metal behind.

"Fucking robots!" Arsen swung the Super Sledge with a roundhouse blow that separated the robot's head from its frame. The elevator rocked threateningly on its cables when Arsen stepped aboard. You'd think these places were rated for power armor. What could he say, to Danse? What could he possibly say? The only thing he could think of were the words he might say to a woman, I love you seemed not quite enough. Arsen's heart beat hard thumping against his armor. I do love you.

The door opened on Paladin Danse dressed only in his orange BOS uniform with a phaser rifle aimed at Arsen's head. Without the power armor, he seemed diminished and vulnerable. That's when Arsen finally understood. This was real. This wasn't pleasant manners and polite conversation. This wasn't his world of clean clothes and surplus money to purchase the meaningless crap that littered the Wasteland in this world.

"Hey, you left your power armor behind" Arsen stepped away from the armor and noted that Danse hadn't lowered his weapon. He glanced away from his friend. In just a few hours Danse went from a robust soldier in charge of his destiny to a man who could barely raise his eyes off the floor. "I think the way this goes is I shoot you, not the other way around,"

Obviously, Danse wasn't in the mood for humor. "You have your orders, Knight. Don't worry, when the time comes, I won't try to stop you."

"Stop me?" Anxiety turned to fear and left a hollow pit in Arsen's gut. His Minuteman hat landed on the table. "I want to know one thing before we say another word to each other. Do you believe I turned you into the BOS?"

"You must have seen the list," Danse retorted without lowering the phaser rifle. "They reported me as missing and last seen somewhere around the airport."

Danse's words lashed out at Arsen and he flinched. Okay, they'll start at pissed off. He could work with that.

"Yeah, I saw the list. Hard to miss while I watched the data stream past while it downloaded. Could've been anyone of a hundred soldiers assigned to the airport. But, why you, Da…? Goddamnit, I can't even say your name. Why didn't you tell me?"

"M7-97."

"What are you talking about?"

"My name isn't Danse, it's M7-97." Danse turned sad eyes to Arsen pleading with him to understand…something. "And I didn't know."

"The hell with that! The man who protects me with his strength and soothes away the nightmares. The man who saved my life a dozen times and taught me to survive. The man who makes love to me like it's a gift and whispers such things…The man who fucks me so hard I have trouble climbing into my armor. That man's name is Danse, and that man is you. Now, please put that rifle down. Please. We don't have much time. I have a feeling Maxson's going to make use of the helipad out there."

"Then he does want me dead. I wish he'd picked someone else. Why did you accept the mission."

"Don't you get it? You stubborn, beautiful man, I did it so I could protect you!"

The rifle wavered and dropped.

"How can you disobey his orders…it's not right."

"Because unlike you and the rest of the BOS, I see Maxson for what he is. He's a megalomaniac. It's just that he's the best megalomaniac around right now."

Just a few feet separated them now. Danse needed to understand and for Arsen to validate something that a day ago was something he could trust.

"Danse, don't you feel it? This thing that bonds us. What would you call it?"

The rifle landed on the table alongside Arsen's hat. "Whatever we have…had. I'm a machine. What I feel for you was programmed into me. It can't be real."

"If you were a machine wouldn't have picked me up off the floor of my son's bedroom and held me until I'd worn myself out grieving. No other man of my acquaintance would have done that. Not even my father held me like that. You did it because you don't filter what you feel for me through all that social bullshit. You just give your heart...your whole heat. Just like you do with all the other parts of your life. What we found together was new for both of us. The friendship, the bond of brothers, and lovers. That could not have been programmed into you."

Arsen sank into a chair and scrubbed his hand over his face, "Can I please stop talking now?"

Danse dropped to his knees in front of Arsen and cupped his face in a large hand. "You traveled such a long way to find me."

"Just from the Police Stat…"

Danse whispered against Arsen's mouth, "That's not what I meant." And, kissed him.


	9. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

 

* * *

"The road is long  
With many a winding turn  
That leads us to who knows where  
Who knows where  
But I'm strong  
Strong enough to carry him  
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So on we go  
His welfare is of my concern  
No burden is he to bear  
We'll get there."

* * *

 

The kiss deepened with intensity and meaning. Filled with _do not forsake me_ and _show me how to get closer to you_. Arsen kept the pressure of his mouth and lips light. Drawing the moment out by gently exploring the taste and texture of the other man's mouth. Under his hands, Danse's breath quickened.

The sex? Mindblowing. And new, of course. But this. This quiet yielding of a man as powerful as Danse removed all coherent thought and left him hungry with the need to feast on the hard planes of Danse's flesh. Hear the sounds of Danse's pleasure and hold him while he surrendered to his orgasm. Then lay naked and vulnerable beneath him while Danse took him. Arsen pulled back just far enough to bring the other man's face into focus. Both men breathing hard, Arsen managed,

"So it's settled then?"

"That you are here to defend me? Yes. That you love me will take longer to process."

Arsen tilted his head to kiss him again. Fingers grasped around his neck the other hand slipped inside the collar of Danse's orange uniform. When his hands twisted the lapels of Arsen's Minuteman jacket and his body hardened, Arsen slid forward in the chair. Danse didn't miss a beat, as Arsen pushed forward the senior Paladin scooped him up in his arms and stood up.

Arsen's feet never touched the ground before Danse pushed him against the wall. Arsen tore himself away from the kiss, "This against the wall thing is getting to be a habit with you. I like it."

The new angle granted Arsen more control over the kiss. When he pushed Danse's mouth open with his tongue, Danse growled into the kiss, panting, "Decorum prevents us from continuing due in part to the high probability that I will be dead before the night is over. I applaud your efforts at convincing me of the power of love."

Arsen's breathless laughter echoed around the room. "My thinking exactly. We practice until you believe me. I think the phrase is 'fake it 'til you make it.'"

Arsen found his feet on the floor when Danse pulled away. The unexpected withdrawal of Danse's body heat left Arsen standing in the stinking drafts of the bunker. The moment fell away as the cloying scent of sewage drifted into his nose. If he were any judge, the other smell clutching his throat was Yao Guai shit. This was no place for Danse. He deserved more than this. So much more. He was about to tell him so when Danse rounded on him, nostrils flaring, with a look the Paladin usually reserved for sighting down the scope of his laser rifle at a synth.

Palms up, "Hey, peace. It's just a saying."

Danse's face flushed, "You believe I'm faking this?"

"No. No. Forget I said it. My head is full of those old words that have no meaning here. I try to be careful. Sometimes…Look, we'll make time to finish what we started and whatever else needs to be said. Right now, we need to get the hell out of here, and I need to see you out of this stinking pit."

Climbing silently back into their power armor, Arsen activated the elevator, thinking he was very glad he'd thought to prop it open. Otherwise, Maxson would already be here. And fuck him, if he'd walked in on them. This would all get sorted out. Danse would not die tonight or any other night. If Maxson didn't behave correctly, then the Elder might be the one taking a dirt bath. Just before he allowed Danse to step into the elevator car, Arsen grabbed the front of his chest plate and stopped him. Danse's eyes stormy and shining with unshed emotion held Arsen prisoner.

"I don't know what else I can say to ease your mind. Soon, very soon, we'll take the time to talk more." Arsen swallowed hard as his voice began to crack. "I love you. Not the corny hearts and flowers kind of love, but the love that sprang from two lonely men, resting on four years of shared experiences and friendship. So whatever happens up there…Dammit. We can argue about it tomorrow, just don't doubt my intentions tonight."

Elder Maxson didn't fail to disappoint. They'd no sooner opened the door of the bunker when the sound of a vertibird engine vibrated the air. Down the slope came the Elder with a wicked looked weapon his hands. Arsen didn't believe for a second that Maxson would come here alone. A quick scan of the ridgeline above their heads confirmed his suspicions when the glare from a scope caught the moonlight. The vertibird flight crew were armed, as well.

"Showboat," Arsen gritted out from between clenched teeth.

Maxson started shouting at twenty yards away, "I should have known you couldn't follow orders. I was right all along, you're nothing but a vault dweller lacking in the determination and faith required to become a Brother."

"Come closer, Artie, and I'll show you all the blood on my hands earned by following your orders."

"Your disrespect amplifies your unsuitability. And, by the look of things, the synth wears the Paladin power armor again. I will not allow you to shame the Brotherhood of Steel."

"His name is Danse. And that power armor belongs to him because he earned it fighting your battles based on your manic ideas about right and wrong."

He felt an iron grip on his shoulder. He couldn't stop now. Arsen had to bet on Danse's faith in him.

"Arsen. Stop this. Please."

Maxson waved the business end of the weapon at Arsen. "How dare you question me? I offer the benevolence of the Brotherhood of Steel. By the elimination of synths and restriction of technology, we put an end to the same spiral toward the destruction of what you see around us."

Years of following the teachings of the BOS brought Arsen to this moment. In the beginning, the military lifestyle appealed to him because it was familiar. It's why he joined the Minutemen, wasn't it?

The fatal flaw in Maxson's argument occurred with his belief that humanity had destroyed itself with technology run amok. While they absolutely had used technology for the ultimate destruction. What Arsen and possibly Danse, didn't realize was it was the competition over dwindling resources to feed a growing a population that led to the moment when the politicians decided to start pushing buttons.

Behind him, Paladin Danse said in a quiet voice that chilled Arsen's blood, "I am asking you to stop this, Arsen. Do not make me choose."

Choose, what? Life or death? Then he saw it. The Commonwealth. The settlements. They were already competing for resources. Provisioners selling their supplies at inflated prices. He'd settled more than one squabble over accusations about stolen Brahmin.

With time to spare from day to day survival, folks began pairing up and leaving to stake a claim and start a family. More babies born every month named Preston, Danse, Nora, and Arsen. Children growing tall and healthy on good food, safe inside settlements like The Castle and Sanctuary. More babies survived infancy than ever before. For the first time in generations, there was leisure time. Time to spend playing, learning to read and practicing skills that were once thought lost.

With his weapon lowered, Arsen turned his back on Maxson. "Chose? My dear friend. There is no price tag on love…on this thing between us."

"I'm warning you for the last time, Paladin Arsen. Kill it or I will."

The expression of doubt on Danse's face broke his heart. Rage bloomed in Arsen's gut boiling into his throat, "You son of a bitch. He's not an it! His name is Danse!"

The shotgun barked and kicked back against Arsen's hip. The spray of buckshot went wide peppering Maxson. All the Elder had to do was stay on his feet and hang onto his weapon. Arsen watched the muzzle spin to white-hot.

There's no time to reload his shotgun.

Without a word, Danse stepped in front of him.

No, my friend. No like this. Arsen took Danse's hand and faced Maxson. It would be better to go this way, side by side, just as they always had been. Through his armored gauntlet, he felt the squeeze of Danse's fingers.

Arsen smiled and closed his eyes. The sound of the Gatling laser shattered the night and illuminated the ground.

There's movement to his right and Danse let go of his hand. He's gone. Facing the world without Danse was unthinkable. Arsen steeled himself for the deadly fire…that never came.

The senior Paladin didn't have time to get the words out to stop her. The order to stand down died on his lips. He could only watch as Scribe Haylen threw herself into the path of the Gatling laser's deadly fire. The blast almost tore in half and ignited her uniform. She landed in the dirt and didn't move.

Danse dropped to a knee and aimed. The single shot sent Maxson screaming and clawing at the fire burning through his face. The Gatling laser tumbled from his hands. The screaming ended in a choking sob. Then silence.

Before Arsen could get to Haylen with a stimpack, a mutant stepped into the clearing.

"He not have the milk of human kindness. Better off dead." The mutant kicked Elder Maxon's body away from the weapon and picked it up. "This weapon worthy of a mutant like Strong. Human have much to do, Strong not ask to come with him this time."

"Paladin Arsen?"

Arsen tore off his helmet and fell to the ground beside Danse. Haylen's pale face showed no pain as she watched Danse. Arsen swallowed hard, she was a beautiful girl, but this…this was the face of an angel who no longer had a use for this world.

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt. In fact, I can't feel anything."

"Scribe Haylen, why did you sacrifice yourself. I don't understand."

A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. The blood spreading through the dirt under her body splashed against his boots.

"Love. I've always loved you…sir. He loves you, too. S-stop being so obstinate."

Danse pushed her hair away from her face, "Haylen. Wait."

She used the last of her strength to smile, "It was an honor, sirs. Take care of each other."

Arsen left Danse to his privacy to grieve and headed toward Strong.

"What are you doing here?" Then another voice and Arsen spun weapon raised.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, that great beastie won't be gettin' all the credit. What do you think you're doin' with that weapon, anyway?"

"Hey! We made a deal. The weapon is negotiable."

"MacCready? Cait? I don't…"

"That was quite a show. Everyone alright?" Preston Garvey stepped into the clearing.

His head swimming with emotion too shocking to understand. Arsen could only shake his head.

"It was Strong's idea," MacCready offered as if that explained everything. He shouldered his sniper rifle. "Sorry about, Scribe Haylen. She was one of the good ones and I know you cared about her."

"Arsen. I found something to cover Scribe Haylen."

He noticed Danse had put his helmet back on. Nothing could hide the sound of his voice and the words laced with shock. A day full of heartbreak and confusion. A driving painful need to comfort the man drove him to Danse's side. He didn't touch him because just like what Danse said about decorum. Now was not the time.

Danse inclined his helmet toward the unlikely group in the clearning. "They are here. Why?"

"To back us up. If you step out of your armor, I'll introduce you. You know Preston, but I don't think you've met MacCready and Cait."

"Don't they know…?"

"They know you're a synth, but they don't care. Danse, look at me. They don't care."

MacCready stuck out his hand, "Heard a lot about you. And, uh, thanks for taking care of our guy here when we weren't around."

Cait bounced up and threw her arms around his neck. "Aw, love. How sad y'are. Time enough for grieving. There's work to be done, and we'd best get to it."

Arsen could only stare at the two figures heading down from the helipad.

"Hey, Boss! Me and this fella named Deacon showed those BOS boys the error of their ways." The one-eyed ex-Raider shook Arsen's hand. "Damn Boss, you got the look of a feral who ain't got the notion of which way to run first."

Deacon slowed down and with measured steps approached Paladin Danse. He stuck out his hand, then let it drop. Then Deacon removed his glasses as the night closed in and the moment drew out. Even MacCready and Cait who bickered for the entire journey quieted. With no idea how this moment might play out, Arsen knew only that it had to. His heart in his throat, Arsen tried to breathe.

"Paladin Danse, my name is Deacon. If the Railroad can be of service, you only have to ask." Deacon took another step forward and took Danse's hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you, sir."

* * *

 

"The road is long  
With many a winding turn  
That leads us to who knows where  
Who knows where  
But I'm strong  
Strong enough to carry him  
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

So on we go  
His welfare is of my concern  
No burden is he to bear  
We'll get there

For I know  
He would not encumber me  
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

If I'm laden at all  
I'm laden with sadness  
That everyone's heart  
Isn't filled with the gladness  
Of love for one another

It's a long, long road  
From which there is no return  
While we're on the way to there  
Why not share

And the load  
Doesn't weigh me down at all  
He ain't heavy he's my brother

He's my brother  
He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

Performed: The Hollies

Songwriters: Bobby Scot & Bob Russell


	10. The Price of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big Commonwealth thank you to Veelsme for reminding me that Danse never repents his actions as a BOS soldier or has his moment of redemption. I aim to fix that.

 

* * *

"There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present, and invoke the security of a comfortable past which, in fact, never existed." —Robert Kennedy

"Without freedom of thought, there can be no such thing as wisdom - and no such thing as public liberty without freedom of speech." —Benjamin Franklin

* * *

He was no ladies man, but the sassy redhead sitting next to him had his full attention. Typically, unless he was drunk, and if he could think of the right words at all, getting them out of his head was always difficult. Tonight, _wanna fuck?_ or _How many caps for a go?_ seemed completely inadequate. And would probably earn him a shiv between the ribs. Her name was Cait and obviously, she was beautiful, but that didn't seem to be the most important thing about her. As he got to know her on the journey over here, he also realized underneath all that balls and bluster was a complicated mix of vulnerability and sass. He wanted to ask her where she came from and the reason for her defensiveness and the sadness in her eyes. Turned out talking to her had been easy because they hadn't stopped arguing since they teamed up in Sanctuary.

"Mac, I already told you I'm not going in there. Arsen called it a pit and I've been in enough of those to know I don't want to go back."

MacCready wasn't ready to back down. If for nothing else than to watch her green eyes flash at him.

"Come on, Cait. Just for a second. Who knows what might be down there."

He didn't like being called "Mac." Never had. But that leather corset made him lightheaded. Who was this spitfire and where had Arsen been hiding her? When she suddenly reached across the space between them and poked a finger into his chest, MacCready stopped breathing. _Oh, hell yes._

"It'll be your bleeding gut if you don't let it alone."

Red hair, green eyes, a wicked looking shotgun and that leather thing. Hadn't he fantasized about this exact woman? Short of provoking her into killing him, how many other ways could he get her riled up?

"Oh, I see how it is," she snapped. "You don't think I've seen that look before?"

_Tell me. Describe it to me. I've got all night. Time to change tactics, MacCready._

He worked up a smile and stuck out his hand. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Robert Joseph MacCready."

"Ach! And such a fine grand name, too. Listen here, Mac. I know who ya are and what ya are. No need to get above your raisin' on my account. I bloody well seen ya drinking at Tommy Lonegan's enough times. Come to think of it, I remember you never spent your caps on more than drink. Made the other girls wonder about 'cha. All ya had to do was ask, love. If it's not the ladies that suit ya, then Tommy was always up for bit 'o man to man. If you take my meaning."

MacCready let his head drop in his hands. The Combat Zone… Tommy Lonegan's…The girl in the fighting cage. The feisty red-haired fighter he spent so many nights admiring from the free seats at the back of the room. And now, of course, he knew exactly where the sass and courage came from. Watching her fight like she made every opponent a target of someone or something only she knew. He'd of had to been deaf not to hear the stories the other guys told about her. Bragging how many times they'd had a go at her. How, if you had the caps, 'ol Tommy might get real generous with her time. One of them told how Tommy'd given a group of them a room, forced her inside and locked the door. She'd fought them like a crazed wolf until one of them finally pinned her down. Life was hard. Just harder for some folks than others. More often than not, it came down to a choice of saving a child, starving or dying alone. Cait had made her choices and lived to tell about it. Arsen had given her a chance to fight back at the world that held her down for so long.

"Cait? I like girls just fine. Especially redheads with a temper to match." That came out pretty easy, and it got her attention. "Let me guess. One day, Arsen found you, rescued you and by all definitions saved your life?"

Cait nodded her head across the campfire, where Arsen and Danse sat with their heads together talking quietly.

"There's the truth of it."

"He did the same for me. With everything else on his shoulders, he took the time to help me enter Med Tech and retrieve a cure for my son."

"You have a son?" Cait's face brightened, and she moved closer to MacCready.

And that did nothing to help his composure because closer meant seeing the spiky texture of her hair and wanting...needing to touch it. See if her skin was as warm as her hair. MacCready breathed her in. She smelled like the Commonwealth. Like the ocean, and burned sunlight and sweat. Not the sweat of the whores who smelled like every john they'd been with, but healthy and genuine. She had not given in to the harsh life the Commonwealth handed her.

"His name is Duncan. I-I had a wife, too. She was killed by feral ghouls."

MacCready almost jumped when one of her calloused hands clasped his.

"Sorry to hear it. But things are better now, I think. It's time to let the sad stories of our pasts become memories."

Turning his hand so that their fingers clasped together. "You're right, Cait. Maybe I'll go visit, Duncan. Soon."

"I think that's a good idea. If I had a boy. I wouldn't let him go. If you go…If you want me to…I could with, you? You'll be needing someone to watch your back."

MacCready didn't answer, instead, he removed his leather coat and set it over Cait's shoulders. Across the campfire Arsen and Danse watched MacCready kiss Cait's hand.

"They look good together."

"I'm not used to seeing all of us in one place. I'd have noticed how good they might be for one another. If they don't kill each other first." Arsen felt a hand on his shoulder and leaned into it. Tired and disoriented, took the gesture as an invitation and scooted over to be closer to Danse.

Danse tipped his head down, "I know your need. It matches mine for you. Tonight I need time to think and sleep if I can."

No.

Cold fear pulled Arsen to his feet. He hadn't meant to have this conversation, but there was no way out now.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Danse rose slowly to his feet. "The reason?"

"I don't want to go back down there, but I will not allow you to go alone," Arsen's tone raised Danse's eyebrows.

Instead of trying to explain himself, Arsen reached into his pocket and pulled out a holotape. In real danger of breaking down, Arsen swallowed the greasy fear rising in his throat and tried to hide his shaking hands by entering the bunker. A moment later, Danse followed him. The closing of the reinforced concrete door went off like a rifle shot. Arsen jumped.

Large hands pried his fingers opened and took the tape from him. "Did you watch this?"

"If I'd gotten here too late and found you… If I lost you, too." The empty hand closed and swung. Danse caught the fist just before the force of Arsen's anger impacted his jaw.

What could he say in his defense? He'd almost done it. Planned it. Recorded the message. Removed the uniform he lost the honor to wear and pointed a laser pistol at his head. At the moment of raising his hand, guilt washed over him and drove him to his knees. The pistol clattered forgotten to the floor.

He couldn't stop the memories from rushing in and drowning him in cold hard guilt. The voices of the dying synths, the screams of the Gen 3s, as they died at his feet. They taunted him from their forgotten graves in broken down office buildings and homes. They tore at his heart. All that he'd been taught. Trained. Indoctrinated. Brainwashed. The horrible things he'd said about synths. They were all about him. He was the very thing he'd been taught to hate and fear. The one thing beside Ghouls he found the most satisfaction in destroying.

"Everything. Arsen. You should have left me here. Everything I am is a lie. What I thought I was. Who I thought I was. I am nothing."

"Danse…no, please. No." But Paladin Danse wasn't a child to be held and consoled. Unsure of how to comfort him or of what he could possibly say to ease his pain. Arsen stayed close and gradually as Danse loosened his grip on his hand, Arsen leaned against him and let Danse take whatever he needed.

When the tremors stopped, Arsen pressed his lips against Danse's cheek, "I can't pretend to know what you're going through or how much you feel you've lost. But, every one of those people out there came here to defend you. Not just me, but you. Danse, every single one of them made the decision to start over. To make something different of their lives. And they have. _We_ have."

Danse lifted his head. A bit of the old warmth glowing in the dearly loved brown eyes, "So, it's settled then?"

Laughter bubbled up and Arsen's smile light up the room like Christmas morning. "Yeah, you're damn right it's settled."


	11. Guilt and Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about how to draw the story to a conclusion, I realized this is about Arsen and Danse, not about the politics of the Commonwealth. I'll save politics for my other story; "It's a Long, Long Road."

 

* * *

"Three Laws of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law." ―Isaac Asimov

"We need not be afraid of the future, for the future will be in our own hands." —Thomas Dewey

* * *

 

If Arsen could keep the ghosts of guilt and despair at bay until dawn, he would count himself lucky. Evil and sly they hung in the shadows ready to tear a man down at the first sign of weakness. Arsen intended to stay vigilant for Danse while the Paladin alternately paced the room, stopping long enough to rail against the fact of his very existence. If Arsen kept his eyes on Danse, and neither man acknowledged the presence of those phantoms they would make it through the night. For now, they were alive, and together and that counted for a lot. If only he could convince Danse.

When he could get him to sit down for a moment, their bodies canted toward each other. When in the darkness guilt and despair threatened to overcome Danse, Arsen soothed the troubled man with comforting hands and met each doubt expressed by Danse with words from his heart. If Danse needed a damn list, he'd make him one.

The trust Danse placed in him when they were naked and vulnerable. The honest desire in a pair of wary brown eyes that held just a bit of fear. The man's dry humor that always made Arsen laugh. The way he gave his heart and soul into everything he did. The friendship that bonded them in ways that nothing and no one could breach. The memory of their first night together when they'd undressed each other with nervous fingers.

"Danse?" He asked, lifting Danse's face to his. "Would a machine touch me the way you do? Would a machine care if I lived or died? If it's siblings, you want. You have brothers and sisters right outside that door. They are the best of the people I've met here. If you'll only let them in."

He talked about being scared. Arsen had never seen Danse actually frightened of anything, and that scared 's what frightened him. If Danse had thought about suicide then if he left him alone might he follow through?

"I should have stayed on the Prydwen and faced my fate."

"Teagan would have shot you for the caps."

"And no one would have lifted a voice in my defense."

"Danse, give me some credit for having some insight into what you're going through and for understanding that you're more than a little lost. Listen to me. I must go, but I cannot leave you here. I'll take you to the Mechanist's Lair where you can get cleaned up and rest. RJ and Cait know they way in they can get you inside."

But Danse was already shaking his head. "I can stay here. Make it more livable."

"I'm pulling rank on you, Paladin. It's the Mechanist's Lair."

"What is the Mechanist's Lair?"

"It's my Man Cave."

"What is a man cave?"

Arsen shook his head and remained silent. As the night drew out he offered support with the touch of his hand or expression. They talked about Maxson and grieved together over Haylen. If a few tears found their way down the man's cheeks, Arsen pretended not notice. Of all the strange events of the last twenty-four hours that this world no longer included Haylen seemed the most intolerable. Who would fuss at him about gathering tech? He could never tease her again in the dust and shadows of Cambridge Police Station or watch her guarded smile shine when he handed her something new. He knew her secret doubts about the BOS's mission. Then, for her to die so violently. Arsen pulled Danse into his arms and held him still. The two Paladins stayed close until the first glow of dawn found its way inside the bunker of Listening Post Bravo.

When Gage knocked on the door, Arsen was holding Danse's hand examining the calloused fingers and scars in the dim light.

"I love your hands," Arsen admitted with a chuckle.

"Boss? Sun's coming up. Better figure out what to do with these bodies. Me'in Deacon got 'em wrapped up."

Arsen reluctantly released Danse's hand, "That's Gage. We need a plan."

Eyes glancing everywhere but on Arsen, Danse replied, "There is only one path open to you. You are a Paladin, the senior field officer who reports directly to Elder Maxson."

Arsen dropped into the chair. "You're right. I hadn't thought it all out. I'll take them back to the Prydwen in Maxson's vertibird."

"And say, what?"

Exhausted Arsen rounded on Danse with anger so palpable Danse took a step back.

"Jesus Christ, Danse. You still doubt me?"

Danse caught Arsen to him with a hand on the back of his neck. "No, not you. I doubt my own body, my ability to breath, to function, to live in the world."

Arsen gave into the pressure of Danse's hand and grabbed the sides of his face. "I'll tell them we sold our power armor in Diamond City, got married and moved to Taffington Boat House to raise orphaned kids. You stubborn idiot. Come here."

The kiss he pressed to Danse's mouth was brutal in the intensity of its meaning and filled with the anxiety of someone who needs desperately needs to be understood. After a sharp sound of hesitation, Danse gave in hauling Arsen against him and returned the kiss.

"Say, it. Look me in the eye."

A ragged breath later, Danse managed, "If I cannot accompany you to the Prydwen then know that I am with you in spirit."

Arsen nodded, "I like the sound of that. That's what I feel when I'm away from you. That you are with me, guiding me and watching my back. Why do you suppose it feels that way, Danse?"

"Because you love me." Danse's eyes cut away. "A-And, I love you."

Arsen stepped away, gathering his weapon and pack, "Then, tell me. Are you alive or dead?"

Something yanked on the armor cowl and Arsen felt his center of balance shift. Before he could catch himself, he was staring at the ceiling of the bunker.

"Alive," Danse said before Arsen could find his feet. The door locked from the outside.

Pounded his fists against the door. The fool would get himself killed.

"Danse!"

~o0o~

Paladin Danse settled the vertibird into its berth and cut the engines. When no one came out to greet him, he dropped to the deck and glanced up at the guard. Danse got his answer when the Knight tipped his head as if speaking into a radio.

Palms open Danse lifted his arms away from his power armor. Then hatches opened, and four Knights joined the first. They didn't hesitate to level their miniguns at him.

"Paladin! Identify yourself."

"I am Paladin Danse. I bring the bodies of Elder Maxson and Scribe Haylen."

"You know we were ordered to shot you on sight?"

That order has been rescinded."

"By whom?"

"By me. Stand down and await further orders." As Senior Paladin, he needed to take charge now before anyone else tossed in doubt or idea. Danse dragged in a breath, squared his shoulders and removed his helmet.

One of the Knights hit the back of his legs with the minigun.

"Strike me again, and I'll test your armor integrity by throwing you off this deck. Make a line," Spitting orders before anyone could draw a breath, Danse jumped in with both boots. He could only hope they'd respond to him and not kill him out of hand.

Danse began issuing orders, hoping that his voice sounded louder than the herd of death claws churning his gut. The Knights pulled together shoulder to shoulder.

"Remove the bodies and take them directly to MedBay. Stay there and guard the room. No one, but Knight Captain Cade or I allowed in or out. You, take that vertibird and bring Knight Rhys to me. Say nothing to him. Clear?

A chorus of "Yes, sir," let him know they'd heard him. Good. "Turn to. I'll be on the observation deck."

In a fair imitation of Maxson, Danse stood with his hands clasped behind his back staring out at the Commonwealth. The claustrophobic armor stood silently next to him. The maelstrom of thoughts bounced in his head to the beat of his heart.

_I am a synth. Is that what gave me the strength and perseverance to become such a successful soldier? Was infiltrating the Brotherhood of Steel my mission? If so, what part did he play? He'd done nothing to undermine the BOS. If they knew one of their runaway synths was seen at the airport, why had no one come looking for him before now? According to Arsen a Courser would have come and wiped his memory._

That thought drove his gut into overdrive.

Danse swallowed hard and knotted the trembling hands at his back.

~o0o~

Arsen rolled to his feet. With the sound of the vertibird in the distance, Gage and RJ burst through the door.

"We couldn't stop him, Boss!"

Forcing his thoughts away from Danse, he found only the memory of his son. The things his Shaun said to him about the Institute's mission and goals. The gray-haired man and his insane ideas about the world he'd never seen. That had not been his son. Any fantasy, or expectation of the man his son might have become ended that day. The little boy he'd helped bring into the world died with his wife as surely as if Kellogg shot him too.

The idea of fatherhood hadn't been real to him, even after Shaun's birth. He often felt as if he were sleepwalking through his perfect life. A good father did this. A good husband did that. The best neighborhood, the right car in the driveway, a beautiful wife, and a child. The day Shaun was born, Nora's father clapped him on the back, thanked him for giving him his first grandchild. 'A boy,' he'd said with a grin and handed him a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

Arsen accepted the check and thanked his father-in-law. He'd never seen that much money in his life. Less than a year later, the money was rendered meaningless in the firestorm that devastated Concord and the world. What would Nora's father think about this new world, where a man could live, not on nickels and dimes or one hundred dollar bills, but bottle caps? If you stayed sharp, you could live on a few caps a day. There was always work that paid enough to purchase food or a roof over your head.

Arsen headed out the door with his companions on his heels. When they were clear of the building, Arsen fired off a flare.

What if they didn't get to Danse in time?

~o0o~

"Paladin Danse? Knight Rhys reporting as ordered, sir."

Startled from his thoughts, Danse turned around too quickly to hide the emotions etched into his face. He resisted the urge to sniff or scrubbed at his face. Barely.

The usual grimace was absent today. Rhys stared into his face searching for answers. What had he heard?

Danse poured Rhys two fingers of Elder Maxson's good whiskey and waved him to a seat.

"Scribe Haylen did a very brave thing last night and paid the price with her life. She sacrificed herself to save me from Elder Maxson. She's dead. She defended me, Knight Rhys. She defended me with her life. She didn't care if I was a synth."

Without making a sound Rhys, twitched in his seat. The glass rattled to the ground. A pool of brown liquid spread across the deck. The shattered glass reflected the lights.

"I-I'm sorry. It happened very quickly. Arsen and I didn't even know she was there."

Grief was the ghost looking over his shoulder. An apparition that taunted him with what ifs and guilt over his actions. The young man next to him tried to breathe but managed a sob instead. Danse sat quietly allowing Rhys to have his moment.

"I thought we had time." Rhys' admission came out like a child waiting for an adult to tell him everything would be okay.

"She's in the Infirmary. Would you like to say goodbye?"

Rhys scrubbed at his face, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Come on then. I'll kick Cade out, and you can shut the door. Knight Rhys?"

Danse's slight change of tone brought Rhy's head up. Arsen had told him he was capable of compassion. Time to put that to the test. "I understand. You know I do, but I'll need you at 100% to help me with what's ahead. Things are coming whether or not we are grieving."

Rhys cracked his shoulders square, "Understood, sir. Sir?"

Danse stopped.

"I don't give a damn if you're a synth. You're the best soldier I've ever had the pleasure of serving under. You're a good man, sir."

"Come on." Danse walked Rhys down the corridor walking slightly in front of him to partially shield the anguished man from inquisitive eyes. Danse gave Knight Captain Cade a nod when they arrived.

On the far side of the room were the remains of Scribe Haylen. Cade had covered her, so all that was visible was her face. Someone had washed the blood away and smoothed her hair.

"Would you like to be alone?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Why her?"

"Rhys, a long time ago I accidentally read her diary. In it, she talked about her career in the BOS. She also said she'd begun to doubt the wisdom of the violence in Maxson's methods. I never told anyone about it. Rhys, what she did last night was brave and selfless. In spite of what she knew about me, Haylen sacrificed herself to protect me from Maxson. I miss her too, and I will for a long time, but let's try and remember the good things about her and honor her memory and her deeds."

"Aye, sir." Rhys bent over Haylen, and in a gesture, Danse never imagined seeing kissed her cheek and murmured, "I love you, Hayley."

Paladin Danse backed out of the room and headed to the central bay. Exhaustion gnawed at him, teasing him into laying down. The events of the last twenty-four hours had worn him thin. How much he had left to give he didn't know. But as he remembered one of his favorite sayings, 'the only way home is forward.' He keyed cleared his throat and opened a mic.

"Attention, all hands. This is Paladin Danse. All crew members not on guard duty report to the repair bay immediately."

Ingram arrived first, her brown eyes full of questions. Proctor Teagan and Knight-Captain Cade followed her in. Last came Lancer-Captain Kells walking slowly behind his bridge crew, his face set in a mask of control. Proctor Quinlan unexpectedly appeared at his side.

He could be certain he had their respect, but how they might react to this news might leave him dead on the floor in the next five minutes.

Who would tell, Arsen?

"I will count on your respect, if not for me, then my rank, to hear me out."

Lancer Captain Kells said in a voice that made sure everyone heard him, "No one will harm you, Paladin. That is a promise."


	12. Oh, Death!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those of you who sent encouragement and took the time to read and review. I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this, but it won't be right away. I have a feeling I'm not finished with Arsen and Danse's story. 
> 
> Warning: Major character death.

 

* * *

 "O, Death

Won't you spare me over til another year

Well what is this that I can't see

With ice cold hands takin' hold of me.

~

Well I am death, none can excel

I'll open the door to heaven or hell

~

Whoa, death someone would pray

Could you wait to call me another day..."

* * *

 

The vertibird hadn't completely touched down when Arsen began directing his companions inside. MacCready jumped aboard and pulled Cait into his arms.

"You'll be keeping your hands to yerself Mac, or you'll know the reason why."

Arsen stopped a moment to watch RJ tuck Cait against him. If he imagined those two might get along, he would have introduced them long ago. RJ looked content, and Cait wasn't exactly struggling. Arsen dropped into the co-pilot's seat.

"Get this thing to the Prydwen."

"Radiation storm moving in, sir. Wouldn't hurt to wait..."

"Move it!"

"Aye, sir!" the pilot replied and yanked the stick to point the aircraft's nose at the sky.

Arsen stared out the window with his fingers pressed against his armor hard enough to scratch the metal. His mind whirled with thoughts too painful to touch or process. He fought back the what ifs and the abject horror of Danse's death. It proved a loosing battle. Why wouldn't they kill him? It's what they were trained to do, ordered to do. The exact test of their obedience and faith to the BOS was their willingness to kill any and all synths.

Doubts curled up his spine. Arsen swallowed the sour taste that threatened to spill from his mouth and kept his eyes on the horizon.

_What if Danse was programmed to create a relationship with him? Shaun would know about it and possibly fostered it. Intimacy with Danse provided the BOS with avenues into the Commonwealth they could not have achieved on their own. And Danse was different. Special, even. Determined, focused. Until Arsen, Danse had walked this world alone. Hindsight reminded him that in those moments of intimacy, skin against skin each of them vulnerable and trusting he always felt Danse held something back. Was it simply his greater strength and not wishing to hurt Arsen or something else? It wasn't something that would have to be faked. Programmed to do anything a synth wouldn't have to pretend affection, devotion or loyalty. Was he programmed to operate in whatever manner it took to ensure mission success?_

How could he misjudge things so completely?

~o0o~

At Lancer-Captain Kells words the entire bay went silent. Danse noticed they hadn't lowered their weapons. Then Kells put all the authority of his position and rank into his voice.

"I gave you an order, Knights. Stand down."

Hidden behind their helmets, Kells' orders were met with a few grumbles of "Brothers gone soft" and "Now we're protecting synths" and "Ain't what I signed up for."

"Paladin Danse. This news took us all by surprise. I can hardly credit that Maxson is dead. Yet, you brought his body to us when you could have left him to the animals. You've been many things to me and most of these Knights. A mentor, a friend, bulwark in times of trouble and a leader. Sometimes just a quiet a shoulder. I cannot just dismiss those facts because you're a synth. Tell me something, Paladin. Tell me something only you and I know."

The tension in the room hadn't changed, but Danse chose to ignore it. He locked eyes with Lancer-Captain Kells, squared his shoulders and removed his helmet.

As if they were the only two in the room, Danse spoke quietly to Lancer-Captain Kells, "Five years ago, I found you sitting alone on the flight line with a bottle of whiskey cradled in your hands. Early that morning, Maxson had awarded you command of the Prydwen."

"You actually remembered that night...?"

Teagan shouldered his way to the Danse, shouting at Kells. "Your sentiment is irrelevant. He's a synth. He knows our intel, our numbers, and our mission plans. Whether he wiped the puke off your chin or not is meaningless. He murdered an Elder!" Teagan swung his fist toward Danse. "This thing is a threat to all of us."

Danse caught Teagan's fist in an armored hand and backed him against a work table. A bead of sweat popped to the surface on Teagan's forehead. Behind him the unmistakable sound of miniguns spinning to life.

"You'll have to come at me with more than your fist."

"Oh, I've got more than my fist, machine."

"I came here to face my fate. I am a loyal soldier of the Brotherhood of Steel."

The whine of miniguns filled the cavernous deck. Danse counted three. Firing a minigun in this environment was dangerous and careless. Therefore, they didn't intend to miss, and at this range, it would kill him. Then again it might not. Not right away.

Danse faced Teagan and raised his hands palm up. "I've done you no harm, brother."

Teagan glanced away. The whine of the miniguns changed. Danse pulled himself to attention. The time for fighting was at an end. He'd been wrong to think they would overlook Maxson's death and the news that he was a synth and therefore the enemy. A man or a synth must face their fate. Danse closed his eyes.

"For the Brotherhood!" Danse shouted as the 5mm bullets tore into his armor. Odd how time slows down. The rounds impacting his armor sounded like rain on a metal roof. Then before they entered his flesh soft like rain falling on water. Like two distinct impressions. This wasn't the first time bullets pierced his armor. But as they found their target, shredding his spine and stirring his organs into a gory stew. Danse felt his legs give way and thought how this would be the last time he heard the sound of weapon's fire or stood on the deck of his beloved Prydwen.

He hated dirty armor

A thousand memories flashed across his eyes. Arsen smiling at him as he pulled away and they collapsed sated to the mattress. Arsen's hands driving him to an ecstasy he'd never known. Building trust between them and learning how to be friends. The light of a campfire flickering in Arsen's eyes while he reminisced about the world he left behind. How Arsen wept at the thought that he couldn't introduce him to Shakespeare, listen to Beethoven's Eroica Symphony in a concert hall or watch the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Wander the Louvre Museum and have lunch by the Seine at a cafe he knew. How he looked forward to teaching Shaun to ride a bicycle and coach his little league baseball team.

How Nora had asked him while they lay naked in the center of their large bed with clean white sheets when they might try to get pregnant again. How this time they'd try for a daughter. From that night until the morning they entered the Vault they hadn't used birth control. A girl as beautiful as her mother. A princess for him to spoil. Had Nora been pregnant when Kellogg's bullet ended her life?

On those nights when his grief overwhelmed him, and his voice finally trailed off into silence, Arsen rolled himself into his blankets with his back to the fire. Danse knew he tried to hide the tears, but there was no mistaking the shaking shoulders or the broken sound of his breathing. On those nights, Danse did the only thing he could think of by curling himself around Arsen and protecting him until dawn. The understanding of what it meant to be loved when Arsen turned to him one morning over their hastily prepared breakfast and put his actions into words. "I feel the same way, Dance. I'm only hoping its more than just friendship."

The deck rushed to meet Danse as he fell. Legs clad in power armor moving back to avoid the splash of blood. Lancer-Captain Kells' face staring down at him lined with the cares of a man who's seen too much of the world.

The pain rendered Danse unable to speak, but he held up a hand and Kells took it. Then he knelt and murmured, "The pain will pass soon. I won't let them forget you or what you've done for the Brotherhood. You were the best of us, Paladin. It's okay to sleep now, brother. Your work is done here."

A hand over his eyes and darkened his world. The world of the BOS that had been his life for as long as he could remember. Had Cutler and Arsen been nothing but plants to reveal his true identity as a synth? Tears he could no longer shed stung his eyes.

Paladins don't cry.

The vibration and echo of running feet against his cheek.

Cade's voice shouting, "What have you done?"

Then nothing.

~o0o~

A radiation storm swirled into Boston Harbor in time to meet Arsen's break-neck flight to the Prydwen. Arsen's pip-boy chimed in alarm. RJ, as usual, complained about their imminent death if they didn't get out of this radiation. Arsen shouted for him to shut-the-fuck-up as lightening lit the cockpit with green fire. The starboard engine erupted in a shower of sparks. The engine gutted and sent the broken airframe into a flat spin. With a death grip on the stick, Arsen forced the vertibird to his will, aimed it at the berth and killed the engines. He didn't wait for the others to follow him before he sprinted toward the hatch.

_Danse. You fool. The stupid fool._

No one stopped him while he climbed to the main deck. His vision blurred while the feeling left his hands and feet, Arsen stumbled toward the hatch. The guard waved the nose of his minigun in the air.

"Your synth boy-toy isn't here, Paladin. We taught him a lesson about honor, courage, and commitment."

Arsen didn't respond. Inside the silent Prydwen, Arsen stopped. No soldiers were calling to each other. No announcements from Lancer-Captain Kells over ship's speakers. Only the steady hum of the engines and the abject fear that he was too late. Danse was gone.

Cade found him leaning against a bulkhead while the others silently watched, helpless and wary of offering aid to their friend and leader.

"Paladin Arsen?" Cade held out his hand but didn't dare touch Arsen.

Arsen spun, teeth bared and rounded on the doctor. "Where is he?

"I honestly don't know. Teagan ordered them to get the body...I'm sorry."

_The body?_

"Where is Paladin Danse?" Arsen allowed his voice to rise along with his rage. He was too late. But not too late to exact some revenge.

Arsen didn't wait for an answer he headed across the deck to Teagan's shop. The Paladin's rage doubled when he saw Teagan leaning against the counter as if everything were perfectly normal.

Teagan's eyes widened at the site of Paladin power armor charging him. Open mouthed he couldn't get his feet to move. Arsen reached in and dragged Teagan out the service window. Too stunned to shout for help or fight the quartermaster hung from Arsen's fist.

"One chance Teagan. Where the fuck is Danse?"

Teagan sputtered, "Do you know who I am. Release me. I order you to release me."

"Where is, Danse. Last time."

"I told them from the beginning you weren't worthy. Nothing but an outsider who could never adapt to our ways. Turned out I was right. You're nothing but a faggot, a sodomite. You disgust me."

No one stopped Arsen when he dragged Teagan to the flight deck and dangled him over the railing. "Tell me where he is." Lightening flashed illuminating the struggling man hanging from Arsen's fist.

Teagan screamed.

"It's either the ground or I hang you out in this storm and let the radiation burn the skin off your bones. Your. Fucking. Choice." Just to make it count, Arsen shook Teagan until he screamed again.

"He's dead you, bastard! Dead! I had them take him down to the airport. Now, let me go! I demand..."

Jerked to his feet, Teagan stopped shouting. Arsen dragged a whimpering Teagan to a vertibird and tied him to the copilot's chair. Arsen fired up the engines and the vertibird whined at the rough treatment and foundered for a moment until it reached full power. Arsen let the ship drop from its birth and headed toward the airport.

"You crazy son of a bitch! You'll get us killed."

Arsen calmly tightened the fasteners on his helmet. "A good man died today. At your hands. A misunderstood man and better man than you, you scheming... Do you know what they do to folks like you out west? Too bad these vertibirds don't have the range. I could take you there, turn you over to the Caesars and let them crucify you."

Eyes wide with the growing horror that this situation was out of his control Teagan vomited between his feet.

Arsen set the vertibird north and tied the stick down. "At first, I thought, enough people have died today. Then I realized. No. One more. Just one more."

His voice sounded steady and almost reasonable. As if this were his moment to revenge Danse and stop Teagan's mouth from talking about the settlers as if they were slaves to the Brotherhood. Those settlers had become his friends. Many of them as close as family. None of those Brotherhood soldiers even knew their names.

"I set the controls, so you've got about a fifty-fifty chance of landing on water or ground. Who knows? You might survive. Just hope you don't land in a nest of Feral Ghouls or a Super Mutants. I bet you've never seen one up close. They have formidable appetites, Teagan. Crucifixion might look like a better option. You'll know when."

Teagan began to weep, begging for his life. "You're crazy! Stop this!"

"Crazy? Yeah, that sounds about right." Paladin Arsen stepped out of the hatch into the arms of the storm. Teagan's screams followed him all the way to the ground.

Arsen rolled to a stop and found his feet. Yes, he was crazy. This world had driven him crazy. Pieces of himself fell away as he ran toward the small settlement north of the airport. The man he thought he was. The strong one. The husband. The father. The man who could keep his head no matter what.

He'd survived because he vowed to his dead wife that he would find Shaun. Staying focused on the next obstacle. Get out of the vault. Fight his way back to Sanctuary, where he found the nightmare confirmed. Death everywhere and everything was gone. Searching for his son. Talking to everyone who would listen, not simply kill him out of hand. The small clues and the large ones tucking them away until finally, he found his son. Building settlements because it was the right thing to do. Earning a place in Commonwealth society.

Arsen slipped between the bus and the broken wall. Inside the small area, he and Danse built a small house. A private place where they could enjoy some down time. The small wood frame house filled with things they discovered during their travels. Their collection of bobble heads, and robot models. A discarded magazine rack filled with comic books, while next to it stood a bookcase filled with every readable book Arsen discovered. Turned out Danse was a natural at nesting.

Up the stairs. The last door at the end of the hallway.

"Danse? Danse!"

Arsen launched himself at the open bedroom door.

Too late too late too late, too late, played through his head like a broken record.

The room was empty.

The filthy remains of a bloody sheet torn to make bandages. Blood soaked into the mattress, pooling in the worn low spots of the ancient fabric.

So much blood. No one could survive after losing that much blood. Not even Paladin Danse.

Arsen tumbled to the floor.


	13. Man of Constant Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a New Years resolution to stop writing tragedy and smut. Now it's June, and it seems I'm hopeless.

 

* * *

"I am a man of constant sorrow,

I've seen trouble all my day

I bid farewell to old Kentucky,

The place where I was born and raised

~o~

For six long years I've been in trouble,

No pleasures here on earth I found

For in this world I'm bound to ramble,

I have no friends to help me now

~o~

It's fare thee well my old lover

I never expect to see you again

For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad,

Perhaps I'll die upon this train

~o~

You can bury me in some deep valley,

For many years where I may lay

Then you may learn to love another,

While I am sleeping in my grave."

Man of Constant Sorrow (Traditional)

* * *

 

Blinded by his grief and a world spinning out of his control, Arsen failed to notice the room change from solid lines and colors to forms blurred by shafts of white light. Gone were the sounds of animals, distant gunfire and water lapping against a littered shoreline. He didn't fight it, couldn't if he tried. He's tired. Depleted. There's nothing left in him to fight with. The light changed and flickered across his eyelids awakening him. Bathed him in the warmth of welcome, Arsen felt his body changing. Was this death?

_Yes, take me. I'm ready..._

~0o0~

Arsen stirred at the familiar sound of his power armor opening. Gentle, yet insistent hands pulled him from the metal shell. He's undressed and bathed, then placed in a comfortable bed that doesn't smell like rot. Sleepy and relaxed in a way he hasn't been in years, Arsen gives into the oblivion he cannot process or understand. The air smells fresh, free of smoke and toxins. He's warm, and for once there's nothing he's responsible for and no life-threatening emergency that required his immediate attention. For the moment—perhaps it will last forever—he's free.

~0o0~

An eternity or a moment later, he became aware of a voice. Someone is speaking to him or speaking near him. A hand on his shoulder shakes him briefly.

"Father?"

That's not right. The pain of speaking left him with just enough strength to correct the speaker. "Not a father..."

"Of course, you are. Will you open your eyes for me?"

"Dooon wan too. Dead?"

"Very nearly. You've slept long enough."

It's the familiar tones of the voice that pulled him from sleep. The distinct inflections of a familiar voice. The voice reminds him of home and belonging.

"How long?"

"Three days and nights. Now, be a good boy and open your eyes. You need to eat."

The voice chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?" Arsen opened his eyes to the smiling face of his son, Shaun. And it occurred to him that he'd never seen Shaun smile.

"Only that I used a phrase you might have said to me if things had been different. I've never been able to decide if I favored you or mother."

"You look more like your grandfather than either of us. You have your mother's eyes and voice, though."

"And, I like to think I have your determination. Now, come along Father. You must sit up, and you must eat."

Neither spoke while Arsen slowly ate the small meal. He didn't need to ask if he were inside the Institute because that was evident. Other realities and questions could wait. When the bowl was empty, Shaun took the utensils and stacked them on a tray.

"There are clothes on the dresser. When you're ready, please meet me in my office. I have news to share with you."

"About what?"

Shaun ignored his question. "If you feel dizzy or require assistance just call out and someone will answer immediately. I know you've had quite enough of mysteries and lies, but I need to know that you're recovered."

"There was nothing wrong with me."

"Father?" Shaun rested his hand on his father's shoulder. "How long had it been since you ate or slept?"

"Forget it." Arsen snapped the covers from his legs. When he pushed himself from the bed, he swayed, and Shaun caught him.

"I brought you here to heal and rest. I know what you've been through and how hard you fought." Shaun gently forced him back down to the mattress. "Rest. And when you're able, visit me in my office." At the door, Shaun stopped, "There is no one here who judges you, Father. No one. Be at peace."

~0o0~

It always surprised him that time in the Commonwealth left him feeling uncomfortable in clean clothes. His skin felt dry and itchy. Very strange. There was a time when he brushed his teeth at least twice a day. Arsen swept his tongue over his clean teeth. He glanced down at his empty hands and frowned at his clean fingernails. Very strange, indeed.

Arsen allowed himself to float through this sterile and false environment. It suited his mood and helped him keep the memories at bay. Time enough to grieve later. Later. The residents of the Institute didn't try to talk to him, only nodded and kept walking. When he took a wrong turn at the bottom of the stairs, a synth quietly directed him toward Shaun's office.

Arsen called out in the empty office, "Shaun?"

When no one answered, Arsen sat down with his head in his hands and let the memories take him. Harder to hold them back than to face them. He could just stay in the Institute. Live out the remainder of his life within these walls where no one and nothing could touch him again. There was work here for him to do. Plenty of things he could help out with. The settlers and his companions didn't need him anymore. RJ would take Cait and find his son Duncan. Preston had the Castle and the Minutemen to manage. Strong had gone off to live in some Super Mutant commune where the residents learned to read and grown their food. Arsen knew Strong would find his particular talents valuable to the others. He was happy for them. For all of them.

"Father! There you are. I've kept you waiting, and that's the last thing I meant to do. Come with please?"

Arsen obediently followed his son down a long corridor and flight of stairs. On the landing, they stopped so Shaun could key the code for the locked door. Inside, in a small darkened room was a hospital bed and circling the bed was a variety of monitors.

"He'll be awake soon. You should be there when he opens his eyes."

"Shaun. I don't understand, and I'm not in the mood for games." Shoulders rounded, Arsen headed for the door.

"Father wait. This isn't a game. Please come to the bedside."

With little else to keep him occupied Arsen shuffled toward the bed. Between the monitors and bags of blood, some depleted and one fresh and ready for use was a crisp white sheet. The sheet moved with the up and down motion of someone breathing.

A calloused hand lay open and still above the sheet. A barrel chest expanded rhythmically. The line of a strong jaw and thick brown hair that streaked red in the sun.

Arsen groaned, "Oh, god. No...Shaun, what have you done?" Terror filled his chest and blocked all capability all breathing. Emotions churned incapacitating him. Arsen grabbed his son by the arms, shouting into his face."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Father, please. Calm down. I swear to you we did nothing more than healing his wounds. On my mother's memory, I swear to you that we didn't memory-wipe him."

"He was dead."

"You never actually saw his body, Father. It was close. Because of his implant we got to him in time to save him. Please calm down. I did this for you...and for him."

"You resurrected him...one of your puppets?"

Shaun pitched his voice to a comforting tone and spoke quietly over his father's shouting. "He will remember you...he will know you...he's watching you right now, Father."

Arsen watched his son leave the room and the door close. The shadows closed in mocking him. The monitor noise burrowed under his skin. No more. No more. No more. He couldn't make himself look at the bed. Shaun would know Danse's code. They memory wiped him. It's what they did. It's what they always did to a rogue synth. His Danse is gone. The bloody mattress. So much blood. They must have cut him to pieces with miniguns. He would go back to his room and sleep. Lock the door. Take as many of those pills as he needed to sleep.

"Arsen?"

Fingers laced with is. Familiar fingers on beloved hands.

"Why won't you look at me? Where am I? Paladin, I require a sit-rep."

"The Institute. We're at the Institute. How do you know my name?"

"Not know your name? What are you talking about? I know everything about you. Arsen, please turn around. Do I have to make it an order?"

The voice was familiar. Why wouldn't it be? Same body. Same vocal cords. The Paladin named Danse. The man who often said that nothing existed between him and the Brotherhood. Until Arsen. The one variable in his life he couldn't control. The man he loved. Stripped of the only identity he had left to him. This deliberate cruelty on by his son was unforgivable.

"I-I must go. I'll send a synth in to help you...answer your questions."

But Arsen forgot about Danse's strength, and in a quick movement that spun him off his feet, Arsen found himself sitting on the bed. Danse sat up in time to pull Arsen into his embrace.

"Stop."

Danse didn't stop. Instead, he found the spot against Arsen's neck where he spent most nights. "It's good to see you," he whispered inhaling the familiar scent.

"Just, stop. Stop." Arsen tried to straight arm him, but Danse was having none of it. "I can't do this. My son did this to you."

"Did what to me? I'm here. I don't understand how, but I'm here. Arsen you promised that we would face this world together. Why forsake that promise now? What has changed?"

"You locked me in the bunker. Went up to the Prydwen alone. Alone. I couldn't protect you. Kells tried. Teagan ordered the guards...They said to the airport. You were gone. Only a bloody mattress. I thought I died, but they brought me here."

Danse framed Arsen's head in his large hands and forced his head up.

"Kells asked me to tell him something only he, and I knew so he could be sure it was me. Arsen, look at me. Remember that night at Taffington Boathouse? That night? Filled with stars, the moon hung high in the sky shining down on us. You found a bottle of wine, and I dragged a mattress to the dock. I was nervous. But you calmed me, and we lay out there all night naked and unafraid of the dark."

"I remember." Arsen tunnel his way further into Danse's embrace.

"What you did to me that night. They way you touched me. Loved me."

"I couldn't get close enough to you."

"You entrusted yourself to my unskilled hands. When you climaxed. I...Arsen...I couldn't believe I'd done that to you. That I caused you so much pleasure."

"You did. You know you did."

Danse laughed softly and pressed his forehead to Arsen's. "Truthfully, for a terrifying second, I thought I'd hurt you."

Arsen felt his lips widen in a smile. How odd. How long had it been since he'd laughed or smiled? But he was too tired for introspection and too raw for resisting the pressure of Danse's mouth on his. This was Danse. The love he'd traveled two hundred years to find. The taste of him, the strength and the innate aggressiveness coupled with innocent desire.

Danse fell back to the pillows pulling Arsen with him.

There was much to discuss. Life in the Commonwealth changed in the last week. Changed in ways, they could no longer control or predict. So many deaths. For now, they could rest, and tomorrow they would face the Commonwealth together.

"Love you."

Danse tucked Arsen under his chin and pulled the sheet over them. Laughter rumbled under Arsen's cheek, "Your instincts were always right on target."


	14. Cause You're So Smooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tuned. A Different Story and a New Adventure... What will Danse and Arsen discover in Nuka-World? A charismatic gangster named Gage? Enough Robots to satisfy anyone's need for Robot Dominance. Mystery and Adventure Await!

 

* * *

"What's past is prologue"

—William Shakespeare

* * *

 

Arsen glanced around the conference table while the others argued. Deacon, Desdemona and Glory on the one side of the table trying and failing to outshout Preston, Knight-Captain Cade, Proctor Ingram and Star Paladin Rasmus. He became aware of being watched in return Arsen slid his eyes toward Danse. When Danse raised his eyebrows, Arsen nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

"Shouting and arguing won't get us anywhere. There's an Elder coming from the West Coast to take over the Commonwealth unit. We decided two months ago that the Institute would not be destroyed if they agreed to stop producing synths and turn their part time biological and ecological studies to full time with the focus on the Commonwealth and surrounding area. Since all of you seem to think I should take charge, then that's it. Understood?"

They shouting started again.

Arsen held up his hands until they quieted. "You all have your assignments. It's not possible for me to be in charge of everything, is it? All of you are capable leaders. Paladin Danse and I have a mission to accomplish and then we'll return to the Commonwealth. I have full confidence in you. Now as we used to say in the Navy, turn to."

The room slowly emptied until only Danse and Arsen remained. Outside Preston Garvey shouted orders and the sound of running feet echoed through the ancient stone fort.

Arsen couldn't resist Danse's shy smile. While in uniform they normally kept displays of affection to a minimum. Decorum and all that. But Garvey had closed the wooden doors after herding everyone out. They were alone.

Arsen's heart skipped a beat when Danse started toward him. That man did things to his insides. How could he be a General, a Paladin, and a senior officer of the Railroad and turn to a mush when Danse touched him? Might have something to do with the fact that the once hesitant Danse might bend him over the conference table. Of course, Arsen might decide to attempt the same and that's when the struggle for dominance began and wrestling with Danse was as much of a turn on as making love to him.

Arsen went for a shaky, "How's my favorite M7-97?"

"I knew it," Danse replied obviously trying to keep the humor out of his voice. "A month as director of the Institute and I'm just a number to you now."

Close enough to touch each other, Arsen kept his hands at his sides. "If that's the way you want it? I would never pull rank on you but it's up to you." Arsen cupped Danse's cheek and wrapped his other hand in the lapels of his dress uniform. "Unit designation M7-97, registration DN-407P I order you to escort me to Taffington Boathouse. If it's raining when we arrive we'll light a fire and I'll have my way with you. If it's dark then we'll light a fire and you may have your way with me."

"What if it's both, Director-Paladin-General Arsen?"

Arsen kissed him gently, "That's the idea, M7-97. So if we get the hell out of here we can make the boathouse by sunset."

Danse turned the chaste kiss into more when he hauled Arsen against him. "That's why you're in charge because you always have the best ideas."

"So you don't mind if we get a late start to Nuka-World? I know how you synths like your schedules."

Arsen gasped when Danse backed him against the conference table and dragged his nails over the front of Arsen's pants.

" _Shit._ Danse."

"As much as I wish to be close to you now, I do not think this is the best time or place. We have several hours of travel left. Do you think you can wait, Director-Paladin-General Arsen?"

"Let's go," Arsen managed to say against Danse's lips. "You're gonna pay for that."

"That is my sincerest wish, sir."

They shared another kiss before climbing into their power armor and heading northwest. As they headed out the entrance of the Castle, Arsen said, "You know I love you, right?"

Danse stopped and shot him a strange, not-quite-good-enough look, continued on with his usual rolling gate. The shorebirds shot into the sky when Danse began singing an old Santana song he'd unearthed from somewhere.

"You're my reason for reason.

The step in my groove.

And if you said this life ain't good enough

I would give my world to lift you up

I could change my life to better suit your mood."

Arsen grinned and trotted after him. A few hours...no, days alone, then on to Nuka-World.

* * *

 

Santana and Rob Thomas, Smooth


End file.
